


Golden Disrespect

by Set_ABlaze



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Betrayal, DNF, Fantasy, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Happy Ending, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, King GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Medieval, No Smut, Pining, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love, royal au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 28,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28341855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Set_ABlaze/pseuds/Set_ABlaze
Summary: Dream's a well-known member of a feared anarchist group. He and his teammates despise everything that a monarchy entails and have finally hatched a plan to make this particular cruel one crumble.One day though, the plan starts to go south, as Dream finds himself falling in love with the prince he was supposed to hate.(This story is written/worked on by 2 people)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 187
Kudos: 391





	1. Poison

Cooking. Dream doesn't know shit about it, yet is still standing in the castle's bustling kitchen. Luckily for him he doesn't do the actual cooking part, he's one of few that bring the way too many golden plates of disgustingly-delicious food to the King, Queen and their son.

Just a week ago he was going over plans with his co-worker Technoblade. Him and a few others form a group known as The Anarchists. The group strives for abolishment of hierarchy, for kingdom ship to be gone. They're a very well-coordinated group, preparing for the most advanced and complicated plans, this one being no different.

Dream had a reason to be working in the castle kitchen, for breathing the expensive air those all-mighty acting people were breathing aside him. The team had come up with a plan, a plan to finally assassinate the Royal family. In his pocket he had a pouch filled with berries of the plant named Atropa Belladonna. These sweet berries are highly poisonous, having several severe symptoms, one of them being death.

He first had to go through days of training and listening to people ramble on about etiquette and boring rules. Today was finally the day he would be able to pursue his mission though. He would carefully place the berries on the plates the Royals would be eating from, knowing that even when they all eat just one, the poison would start doing its thing.

He needn’t worry about others getting sick from these berries, at least there was a positive about the King, Queen and Prince being privileged, eating all the food themselves. The numerous plates that were prepared for them and only them. Greedy bastards.

Dream and a few others were waiting in the hallway for the food to be done. Prior to this they were preparing the dinner table, setting the beautiful golden plates and cutlery on the dark wooden table. The door infront of them opened. Suddenly getting a strong smell of spices and well prepared food forced up his nose, Dream snapped out of his thoughts and quickly walked in behind the others.

Chefs were yelling and shouting, finishing off the plates in a haste with small decorations of pretty leaves and edible flowers. As the plates were placed rapidly but carefully on the counters, Dream and the servants took them in their hands, holding two per arm. He had no struggle with this, even though he didn’t pay attention to any of the training lessons. He was just incredibly good, at everything really. He often had to keep his balance running over rooftops, hiding on top of thin tree branches. Balancing a couple of plates? Hah, childsplay.

Today was not the day for appeasing his ego though, he had to keep a hand free for the placement of the berries. He waited for the others to grab the plates first, leaving just two behind. Perfect. He swiftly grabbed the two plates and put them on one of his arms. As he left the kitchen to follow the group, he closed the door behind him, making sure no eyes were set on him, and making sure he was behind everyone else.

Now’s his chance. He puts his hand quickly in his pocket, grabbing a handful of the berries. He places them on the neatly decorated plates, making sure they didn’t look out of place. Done, easier than he thought. He knew the Royals ate from all plates, since he has been in cleaning duty a few times. Ugh, three people eating so much, while there were starving people out on the streets begging for as much as a crumb.

He feels pain for those people out there, he used to be like them after all. So lost and hopeless, until a golden haired man took him in. letting him stay in his cozy little inn, treating him like family.

The dining room’s doors open in front of him, bright light seeping through the halls where him and the other plate holding servants were standing. As they were let inside, they placed the plates on the previously mentioned decorated table, and quickly headed back outside, as to not further disturb the loudly chatting King and Queen. The Prince was quiet. Dream had noticed he didn’t see much of the Prince. Like his presence was, ignored.

No matter. He’ll be dead along side his parents in just a couple of days.

The group of servants headed back to the kitchen, talking amongst each other, taking no notice of Dream walking the complete opposite direction. His job was done, he was no longer needed in this hell-forsaken castle.

Noting the outlay of the castle halls, he finds himself a small passage way he was told about earlier this week. It leads to a pretty big sized garden. In the middle of the garden a golden haired man sits against a big pretty tree. The man was wearing long green robes, and a white and green striped hat of sorts. Wrapped around the hat were two thin ropes with hearts on the ends. As he looks up, his greyish blue eyes glisten in the lantern’s light he’s holding.

“Hello Dream.”

Dream tenses a little,

“I told you not to use that name when i'm not wearing the mask, Phil.”

The man now known as Phil laughs softly, his face wrinkling from the smile,

“i suppose i'm just more used to it than Clay."

Dream scoffs but soon follows with a smile too.

He walks over to Phil as he reaches his hand forward. Phil grabs it with his empty hand and gets pulled up, the lantern swinging a little from the momentum.

“so, the job’s done, correct?” Phil asks, walking towards the garden’s gate.

“Yep. They should be dead in a matter of days.” The other notes nonchalantly.

Phil nods and stops walking when standing in front of the gate. He opens it and lets Dream go first. Dream thanks him quietly and walks ahead, waiting for Phil to catch up.

“So where we headin’? I could go for a drink, I did just successfully commit a crime ya know.”

Phil laughs, looking around a bit for any guards “Don’t get your hopes up, what will you do if one, or even all survive?”

“Phil they won’t survive, trust me. I know what I’m doing.” He scoffed. “That doctor will just think it’s a simple flu, and before he knows it, they’re all dead!”

“You’re right, you’re right. Let’s head to my tavern then, I’ve already notified Wilbur I’d be later, but I don’t want to keep him waiting much longer.”


	2. Arguing

“Father you can’t just let the people starve like this! I know the wheat supply is low this month but can’t we just take less for ourselves? We always get way too much bread with every meal and it’s not like we eat it all! Just tell Niki to send less to us so that her bakery can be stocked well enough for the people that actually need it!”

The Prince and King were in a heated argument like usual. The Prince often disagrees on the practices his parents follow up on, and tends to fight them for his beliefs. Like always, he doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere.

“Silence, George! If I hear one more word from you, I’ll have Darryl lock you up in your chambers!”

…

Yeah, that’ll do it. George doesn’t like being stuck in his beautiful yet boring room, he loves going outside, secretly venturing around town with his squire Callahan. His parents never really notice him leaving the castle. It’s quite sad really, how much he gets neglected. But he’s not complaining, he’d rather be alone anyways, than being constantly baby-sat and yelled at by his parents.

One person does care about him though, the private secretary, Darryl. George sees him as a father figure, unlike his actual father. Darryl is always very sweet to George, having his best interest in mind. He’s quite the rule follower though, often scolding George when he secretly leaves the castle, he even scolds him for bad language use, like George is a little child or something.

George.. often feels like he gets seen as a little child. His baby face doesn’t help that one bit. He has dark brown hair and hazel eyes. One eye is a slightly lighter hazel, but it’s barely noticeable unless you get real up close.

A few hours after the argument with his father, George was sitting outside in a garden. A big tree was in the center, making leaves breeze through the evening sky. He knew a fair bit about flowers, and plants in general, as he spends a lot of time in the library, studying the old books.

Too bad for him, he was color blind, red and green color blind to be exact. The only colors he could see were various shades of blue, yellow and brown. Blue was his favorite of the bunch, often reflecting in his clothing style.

It doesn’t bother him that much, that he can’t see all the flower’s colors. He still thinks all of it is incredibly pretty. If he wasn’t the literal Prince, he would be a gardener of some sort, growing pretty little plants and leaving bouquets on people’s doorstep.

A sound interrupts his thoughts, tiny footsteps,

“Callahan! Hello, what’s up?”

The squire waves at George. He was freakishly tiny, for an adult. He always wore a reindeer costume, I guess you could call it. Two of the court Jesters, Karl and Quackity always put a soft bright red ball on his nose when he was asleep. Callahan got tired of constantly having to remove it, only for it to appear again the next day, so he decided to keep it. Connor, another one of the Jesters, always wears a similar costume to Callahan. Connor was the one to gift it to the squire years ago, he liked it so much he now wears it every day.

Callahan starts using sign language, _“dinner?”_

“Oh! Right. I’m not really all that hungry, but my parents will get mad if I skip, won’t they?”

George doesn’t really know a lot of sign language, but he knows a few basic words so he can somewhat understand the mute squire.

Callahan nods quickly and walks over to George, pulling his arm harshly, wanting him to get up immediately.

“Calm down, calm down, I’m already getting up.”

As George stands up, Callahan starts pulling him towards the exit of the garden, leading them right into the castle. The Prince obediently follows, not really caring that much. The halls of the castle were beautiful, warm greyish stone walls, giant multicolored glass pained windows, an incredibly long red carpet neatly spun across the tile floor. He felt small walking through them, insignificant.

After a bit of walking they arrived at the dining hall. The guards opened the big wooden door for Callahan and George, and escorted them in. Callahan walked straight past the big table where the King and Queen were seated, and hurried into a smaller door on the other side of the room.

George was now once again alone with his parents.

They were chatting and bickering about, who knows what. George really couldn’t give a crap, staring at one of the stained glass windows to the left of him. It had the image of a previous King, the King seemed to have goat horns floating above him, and bright yellow eyes. He’s read about the guy, he was called ‘Schlatt’ or something along the lines of that. Not much was written about him, George knows people hated him though, even more than the current King. Officially written, he had a heart attack, rumors are though, that one of the court Jesters murdered him, after having a secret relationship with him.

The big door he entered in creaks open, as the usual servants flooded in with plates of food.

‘Way too much food.’ He thought.

Something, or someone, catches his eye, someone new? He recognized all the other faces, but there was someone that he didn’t recognize. A man with dirty blonde hair, and visible scars on his arms.

Who was he? George hadn’t ever seen him before. Nowhere in the castle, nowhere in town even, and he visited fairly often! Runethia doesn’t often get newcomers, the kingdom has a horrendous reputation, weird.

He catches himself staring, shit, stop it, George.

George swiftly turns his head back to the table, as the plates are being put down. A few seconds later the servants were gone, leaving George once again alone with his parents.

He didn’t touch his food, he still felt bad about his earlier today’s argument subject.

‘maybe I’ll just head into the kitchen later, and give the leftovers to the inn.’ He thought. They’d appreciate it right? Maybe not, maybe they’d find it weird.

After a bit of pondering George excuses himself from the table, his parents not taking notice still bickering about whatever, like always.

As the doors are opened for George, he sees Callahan sit against the wall, playing with a, what seems to be royal blue, flower. Callahan jumps up when he sees George, a sheepish smile appearing on his face. He walks forward and holds out the flower,

“for me?” George asks, reaching towards the pretty flower.

Callahan nods, as the Prince carefully takes the much appreciated gift.

“Thank you, Callahan, I love it.” He smiled, and put the flower behind his ear. He took Callahan’s hand and started walking towards his room, it was late, and George was tired.

As he approached the elegantly engraved wooden door leading into his room, the guards nodded at him, and opened the door so he and his squire could be let in. The room was gorgeous, big tall windows covered by beautiful royal blue and golden silk, hardwood furniture engraved with symbols and words, and a blue canopy draped bed, large enough for three people.

It was spacious and pretty sure, but it wasn’t very cozy. George would rather stay in a smaller room, with books and plants. Maybe he’d have a pet cat, he always wanted one, but his parents didn’t allow it. His parents told him that future Kings don’t have lousy pets like cats, only big aggressive hounds with sharp teeth.

George yawned and sat on the soft bed. He regrets not eating, but that’ll be a problem for tomorrow.

“Goodnight Callahan, I’ll take good care of the flower for you.” He said and smiled, Callahan smiling back. The two waved at each other as Callahan left the room, having the guards close the door behind him.

The Prince took the flower from behind his ear, and put it in a beautifully decorated vase he got gifted a while ago. He filled it with some water and placed it on his bedside table, good enough for now. He’ll put it somewhere better tomorrow, first he’s going to get some sleep.


	3. Shock

“-our highness? Your highness!”

George opens his eyes slowly, annoyed at the voice trying to wake him.

“your highness please wake up, your parents have fallen ill!”

As George’s vision clears up, he sees a fairly pale man with glasses hover over him, shaking him awake.

“Darryl? What’s wrong?” He asks somewhat confused, why was Darryl waking him up this early? And what did he say? Something about his parents?

Darryl backs up and straightens his posture now the Prince is awake, clearing his throat,

“Your highness, you have to get up immediately, the King and Queen have fallen ill.”

“Ill…?” George shifts his position to sit up right, he watches Darryl in confusion as he tries to process the words that just went through his half asleep head. “Wait, what?” Then it dawns on him, his eyes widen,

“Ill?! What do you mean?! What’s wrong with them?! Do they carry a disease?! Are they alright?!”

George quickly gets out of bed and shoves past the equally worried man. He grabs the boots standing near the door and puts them on,

“We have to get to them immediately! C’mon!”

Darryl is taken aback by the sudden burst of energy the Prince has, and before he could give out any response he gets dragged towards the door,

“your highness please calm down, you’re not even properly dressed yet!” He huffed, pulling his arm back from George’s grasp.

"Who cares about how I’m dressed right now Darryl! My parents are sick! They are in their room right now, correct?"

George snaps, turning to the slightly shorter man. Darryl sighs,

"Correct, doctor Ponk is with them right now, he-"

"Alright then let's go!" He interrupts, and hastily walks off paying no attention to the private secretary. He mumbles something under his breath and quickly follows after him.

After a bit of fast paced walking through the long halls and weird stares towards the improperly dressed Prince, they've arrived at the King and Queen's chambers.

George practically runs into the room, seeing them lie on their bed with Ponk running tests and asking questions. He turns around to look at who entered,

"Ah! Your highness!"

"Doctor Ponk! How are they? Do you know what's wrong with them?"

"Uhm well their symptoms are very severe but, I’m not sure what's the- the cause of them. They told me they were just fine yesterday, and nothing I know of makes these symptoms just show up in the span of 7 hours. I thought of food poisoning and visited the kitchen, but they told me they just cooked the same dishes as usual, and that nothing new or strange was added."

George furrowed his brows, "So you don't know what's wrong with them..?"

The doctor shakes his head, "Looking at how these symptoms are rapidly getting worse I, don't know how much time I have left to figure out. I.. I’m sorry your highness."

George's heart dropped, he wanted to say something, anything, but a lump in his throat prevented him from doing so.

"George..?"

A weak voice calls out, the Prince jumps a bit, it was his mother. He stays quiet, but shuffles over to her.

"My son..." she reaches out her hand, and George hesitantly takes it.

"You'll be a good King for us, right?"

He nods slightly, "Of course mother."

"I know that, we've had our disagreements, and our fair share of arguments, but you know I love you, right, George?"

He starts tearing up, warm droplets starting to run down his cheeks,

"Y-yes I do mother."

As much as he told himself he didn't like them, they're still his parents. He couldn’t help but cry.

“You should leave George, you shouldn’t have to see your parents in this state. Darryl, take him out of this room would you?” His father demanded. George looked over to him, shocked. why would they want him out the room? They’re literally dying and they won’t let their own son be with them? Does their pride not allow him to see them weak like this or something? What the h-

Darryl interrupts his thoughts, “You heard the King your highness, please come with me. We’ll let doctor Ponk do his job, we shouldn’t lose hope yet.” He smiles softly, and places a hand on George’s shoulder.

He had so much to say but.. nothing came out, just more tears.

As they were standing in the doorway George looked over to his parents, seeing them talking with Ponk. They dismissed him and his feelings so quickly, like always. Was he just not worth it? Was he such a terrible son? What if them getting sick was somehow his fault? The thoughts kept flooding in as Darryl lead him into the halls. Once the doors were closed behind him, he couldn’t help but sob, all his emotions hitting him like a train.

“your highness?” He heard Darryl say, “My goodness are you alright?”

The man quickly ran over to George, holding him to prevent him from falling.

“Your highness, your highness please,” He pleaded. No response.

“George! Hey, look at me please?”

George slowly lifted his head to look at the concerned man. His name wasn’t often used when referring to him, only by his parents. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were covered in tears.

“George, please don’t lose hope yet. I’m sure Ponk will find out what’s wrong with them alright? He’s the best doctor in the kingdom! Your parents will be fine!” Darryl smiled slightly, hoping to cheer the Prince up.

George rubs his eyes, “Thanks, Darryl.”

Although he appreciates the gesture, he wants to be anywhere but in this suffocating castle right now. He wants to get away, run away. If his parents were to pass, he would become the new King. He wasn’t ready yet, he was only twenty years old! He doesn’t know what he’s doing!

He abruptly leaves Darryl’s arms, quickly heading off to a place he knows well. A place that brings him peace.

“Don’t follow me Darryl.” He states harshly, leaving Darryl to stand alone in the long hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, Atropa Belladonna is actually one of the most poisonous plants known to man, the symptoms when ingesting any part of the plant include dilated pupils, sensitivity to light, blurred vision, loss of balance, staggering, headache, rash, flushing, severely dry mouth and throat, slurred speech, hallucinations and much more.  
> Me and my friend writing this do know that it takes atleast 10 berries to be lethal for an adult, but hey, we're in medieval times in this story, its not like they got good healthcare eh?


	4. How nice

Somewhere near the town square there’s a tavern. The tavern is extremely well known, and is loved by everyone. It’s owned by a man named Phil and a musician named Wilbur.

Wilbur’s songs consist of well-known tales. Whenever he starts singing the entire tavern falls still, everyone eagerly listening to the man’s beautiful voice and tunes. He had wavy brown hair, and a gorgeous pearly white smile. He carried a Lute with him everywhere, a signature trait together with his often worn yellow tinted clothes, dye made from the neighboring garden’s flowers.

Phil was a man already mentioned before in this story, a man with golden hair and ocean colored eyes. He has the reputation of being the father of the town. He wasn’t necessarily old, but he definitely had an old kind soul. His goal was to help everyone, listen to everyone, be trusted by everyone. He definitely succeeded in that goal, as everyone in the town has visited him at least once to ramble on about whatever came to their mind.

Phil was also the primary caretaker of most the gardens in town. He visits them every morning before he opens his tavern, making sure the delicate plants were well taken care of. The garden behind his tavern was his favorite one, as it was filled with the most beautiful flora from all around the country.

That garden was also George’s favorite, always going there when he had a chance to escape the prison of a castle he’s forced to call home.

He’s there right now actually, sitting by a river stream that goes through the area. He was still wearing the clothes from that morning, only covered by a blue cloak he quickly put on before leaving the castle. Staring into his reflection he could see his still red and puffy eyes. He was feeling too many conflicting emotions, anger, sadness, fear, disgust, shock, it was wearing him down.

“Seein’ something interesting in the river mate?”

George tensed from the sudden voice, but calmed down after realizing who it was.

“Not really.” He responded in a hushed tone. He didn’t bother to turn around, not that it would make any difference, the man already recognized who he was.

“Your highness? Oh cra- uh I mean,” he cleared his throat,” I apologize for using mate on you, your highness.” He quickly said, stressing over the fact he used that language around the Prince.

George laughed softly, a sharp but welcome contrast from the last few hours. “It’s fine Phil, doesn’t bother me.”

“Hah phew!” Phil jokingly murmurs, as he walks over to the Prince.

“May I ask what you’re doing here, your highness?” He asks, lowering himself to the ground, now also looking into the river.

“Doing nothing really.” He responds.

George looks over to Phil’s reflection, he looks deep in thought, concerned about something maybe.

“Are you feeling alright?” Phil suddenly asks, no longer staring into the river, but instead looking over at George.

‘Concerned about me then I guess.’ George thought, thinking of a response. He couldn’t say what was really going on could he? That the literal King and Queen were dying?

This is Phil though he’s talking to, if he were to tell anyone it would be him.

“The King and Queen, they’re sick.”

George expects a shocked response, but Phil seems, rather calm about it. Maybe he already knew? No, impossible. he was probably just masking his worriedness, as to not upset George further. Seems like something he would do.

“Sick? Like, as in a disease?” He questions.

The Prince thinks for a bit, “We don’t.. assume it’s a disease. No disease we’ve heard of takes such a heavy toll on one’s body in the span of 7 hours.” George turns his head back to the water,

“And it’s only them that are affected, I mean, I think we’d notice if anyone else felt like them right?”

Phil hums, “I suppose so.”

After a bit of quiet, Phil speaks up again, “Would you like to come inside and talk a bit further? It’s rather early, I’d assume you haven’t eaten anything yet.”

George snaps out of thought at the proposal. He realizes he is actually really hungry, he forgot he hadn’t eaten dinner yesterday. “That’d be nice.” He answers.

Following the path out the garden, they arrive at the backdoor of Phil’s tavern. He opens the door for the Prince letting him go first into the cozy building.

It was mostly made from wood and stone, the windows small but still letting in the perfect amount of light. Chairs and stools were stacked on the tables, signaling the place hadn’t opened yet. Despite that, it still smelled delicious. 

Phil quickly pulled out the stools from under the bar, signaling for George to sit. He does as requested.

“Niki actually came in with a delivery earlier, I assume you’ve had her breads and pastries? They’re truly delicious.” Phil somewhat shouted, as he headed into the kitchen. 

“Dumb question Phi-“ The new voice trailed off. George turns his head toward where the voice came from, his eyes widen a little as he recognizes the face. An equally wide eyed man stared back at him.

Dirty blonde hair, visible scars on his arms. Yellow eyes? Green most likely. Looks like he just woke up.

Phil’s voice interrupted the silence, “I didn’t catch your response so I’m going to assume you said yes of cou- oh.” He looked over to the person still standing on the stairs, staring at George.

He cleared his throat, “Your highness, meet Clay, Clay meet the Prince.” Phil finally said, breaking the awkward silence between the two.

“I’ve seen you before, at the castle.” George starts, “Clay is your name?”

“Err, yep.” He responds, slowly making his way further down the stairs. He pulls out one of the bar stools and sits down, he seems, troubled, confused maybe?

‘I’d be confused too if I saw the Prince first thing in the morning.’ George thought.

Phil places a plate of pastries in front of him, “Oh, thank you!” he quickly said.

“No problem. Clay should I get you some as well?” Phil looked over to Clay,

“Of course Phil! You know my favorites.”

His earlier attitude seems to have disappeared, a smile now taking its place.

“So where are you from?” George asks, looking over at the boy. He seems to be around the same age as George, a bit better built though. “I hadn’t ever seen you before yesterday, are you from a neighboring kingdom?”

“Yep! I worked as a servant over at Hadia, decided to come here and change things up a little.” He responded, now looking back at George.

“You came to this kingdom of all places?” George hummed, and rest his head on his hand, taking a bite out of one of the pastries.

Clay raised a brow at the Prince, “You ask that as if Runethia is bad, aren’t you the literal Prince? I thought you of all people would be positive about this place.”

“Hard to lie about something that’s well known.” George shrugged.

“Good thing I like challenges then hm?” Clay winked as George laughed a little,

“I suppose you can see it as a challenge, you’re right.”

“Sorry Clay, Niki didn’t have one of the ones you like, she said supply was low this month.” Phil stated, as he emerged from the kitchen, holding a plate with two pastries. “I gave you double of the one she did have though, hope that’s fine with you mate.”

“Ah, yeah it’s fine don’t worry.” Clay responded cheerfully, taking the plate from Phil, immediately digging in like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

The Prince felt bad, knowing he could technically help them. He looked down at his plate, suddenly not that hungry anymore.

“Hey Phil? Mind if I take this last one with me? I have a friend who’d appreciate it.” George asked, getting up from the stool.

“Of course you can ma- er, your highness!”

George chuckled, “You don’t have to call me that Phil, I don’t really like it anyway, just George is fine.”

Phil looked surprised, but smiled soon after, “Whatever you say, George! Let me get you a bag alright?” he said, heading into a room off to the side. After a bit he came back with a small paper bag and handed it to George.

George thanked him, putting the pastry in the bag.

“Let me pay you.” He then continued. He remembered that he put a pouch of money in the cloak’s inside pocket for emergencies. As he takes it out, Phil quickly interrupts,

“Don’t worry about money, I’m not gonna charge the Prince!” Phil laughs, putting a hand on George’s shoulder.

“I insist.” George simply responds, shoving the entire pouch of gold into Phil’s hand.

He looks shocked, and removes his hand from George’s shoulder to open the pouch, “This, this is way too much! I couldn’t possibly ever accept this!”

“It’s a thanks, for taking good care of the people. You’re better at it than us, Phil.” George laughs, turning around and walking over to the exit.

“See you later Phil! And, maybe see you later Clay?” He questioned, turning his head to them.

Clay was standing next to Phil, looking equally shocked,

“What? Er, oh, yes, of course!” He quickly responded, “I’ll be staying here for a bit, I have some things to do.”

The Prince smiled, and left the tavern, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we're bringing these out somewhat everyday, and English isn't our first language, there may be some occasional mistakes! don't be afraid to point them out, it'd actually be much appreciated!


	5. Too nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double the amount of words today! A little gift to the people that are really enjoying the story :)

“Is he back already…?” Dream mumbled.

He was sleeping peacefully when he got woken up by the tavern door opening. The tavern doubled as an inn, where traders and travelers could stay the night. This kingdom is a shithole though. Rulers cruel, townspeople poor. Nothing interesting to see for travelers, nothing interesting to trade for traders.

It’s going to take a bit for the government to fess up about the Royals being dead, but man Dream was gonna stay and see that catastrophe go down as if it was the last thing he ever did.

The room he was currently sleeping in wasn’t bad, it was peaceful and actually, pretty nice. Phil earns a lot from this place, as people come to the tavern often. He could afford to make the rooms more cozy and the food more good. Dream felt a bit bad for not paying, but Phil insisted on it.

Dream rubbed his eyes as he shifted his position to sitting on the edge of the bed. After around 5 seconds his vision cleared up, forcing him to stare at his reflection.

He forgot there was a mirror on that wall.

 _‘God I look like shit.’_ He thought.

Downstairs faint noises of stools being pulled over the wooden floor could be heard,

_‘What’s he doing?’_

Dream quickly gets up and tidies his hair. He walked over to a chair and grabbed the clothes hanging over it, a white blouse with dark brown trousers and a belt. He had fancier clothes but he wasn’t planning on going anywhere so whatever.

After he was done changing he started walking down the stairs, seeing what all the commotion was about.

He rubbed his eyes again just as Phil started shouting something,

“Niki actually came in with a delivery earlier, I assume you’ve had her breads and pastries? They’re truly delicious.”

Dream was confused, of course he’s had Niki’s pastries? Phil even knows what Dream’s favorites are, he must be trolling him or something,

“Dumb question Phi-“ Dream stopped rubbing his eyes and immediately stopped dead in his tracks when seeing who Phil was actually talking to.

It was the Prince.

They stared at each other in silence, as Dream’s thoughts went absolutely haywire,

What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he sick in bed? Was he immune to the plant or something?

 _‘Did he not eat?’_ Was his final thought.

No. impossible right? Why would the Prince not eat? The Royals always eat everything, they’re greedy and selfish!

“I didn’t catch your response so I’m going to assume you said yes of cou- oh.”

 _‘Phil. What the fuck.’_ Was Phil friends with this guy? The literal Prince? The enemy? Who is supposed to be suffering right now mind you, he’s making this harder than it needs to be!

Phil cleared his throat, “Your highness, meet Clay, Clay meet the Prince.” Phil finally said, breaking the awkward silence between the two.

Dream was still standing on the stairs looking utterly confused. Then the Prince started talking, a surprisingly soothing voice coming out of his mouth,

“I’ve seen you before, at the castle.”

Dream’s eyes widen a little, _‘shit’_ definitely not what he wanted to hear.

“Clay is your name?”

“Err, yep.” Dream responds, slowly making his way further down the stairs. He pulls out one of the bar stools and sits down.

_‘Alright stop being awkward Dream, get your shit together. It’s fine! It’s fine, you’ll think of something. No big deal.’_

Phil placed a plate of pastries in front of the Prince, he thanked him kindly.

_‘huh.’_

“No problem. Clay should I get you some as well?” Phil asked, while looking over to him.

Time to act normal, “Of course Phil! You know my favorites.” He said, in a way more cheery tone than usual. The Prince didn’t seem to really notice, not that he knew what Dream usually was like anyways.

“So where are you from?” The Prince then asks, looking over at Dream. He’d hoped for all questions except that one.

“I hadn’t ever seen you before yesterday, are you from a neighboring kingdom?”

Dream tries his best to recall any names, Hadia was one right? He crosses his fingers mentally and answers,

“Yep! I worked as a servant over at Hadia, decided to come here and change things up a little.” He responded, now looking back at the Prince, hoping he said a name that actually existed.

“You came to this kingdom of all places?” The Prince hummed, and rest his head on his hand, taking a bite out of one of the pastries. He was still looking at Dream, like he was staring through his soul, seeing right through his bullshit.

…

Wait, what? Dream was confused and raised a brow at him, why did the Prince say that like he doesn’t like it here?

“You ask that as if Runethia is bad, aren’t you the literal Prince? I thought you of all people would be positive about this place.”

The other shrugged,

“Hard to lie about something that’s well known.”

_‘interesting, at least he’s self-aware.’_

Dream shifts his position a little and grins,

“Good thing I like challenges then hm?” He winked as the Prince laughed a little,

“I suppose you can see it as a challenge, you’re right.”

“Sorry Clay, Niki didn’t have one of the ones you like, she said supply was low this month.” Phil stated, as he emerged from the kitchen, holding a plate with two pastries. “I gave you double of the one she did have though, hope that’s fine with you mate.”

“Ah, yeah it’s fine don’t worry.” Dream responded, taking the plate from Phil. Man he was hungry.

The Prince started talking again, “Hey Phil? Mind if I take this last one with me? I have a friend who’d appreciate it.” He asked, getting up from the stool. Dream looked over to him and lifted his brow again,

_‘Does he have a thing for not eating or something?’_

“Of course you can ma- er, your highness!” Phil responds.

_‘Sheesh good going Phil, about to say mate to a Prince? Prepare to get sh-‘_

The Prince chuckled,

_‘huh?’_

“You don’t have to call me that Phil, I don’t really like it anyway, just George is fine.”

Dream and Phil both looked shocked, Dream especially. No Royal ever lets anyone use their actual name to address them, maybe they were just really close?

“Whatever you say, George! Let me get you a bag alright?” Phil said, heading into the storage room. After a bit he came back with a small paper bag and handed it to the Prince, who thanked him with a smile.

“Let me pay you.” He then continued, pulling out a pouch that seems to be filled with gold.

Phil quickly interrupts, “Don’t worry about money, I’m not gonna charge the Prince!” he laughs, putting a hand on George’s shoulder.

_‘They really are close aren’t they? Must be.’_

“I insist.” George simply responds with yet another smile, shoving the entire pouch of gold into Phil’s h-

 _‘THE ENTIRE POUCH?!’_ Dream yells in his head. He thinks the Prince is joking, it’s probably not even actual gold. he stood up and walked over to Phil’s side as he opened the pouch. They both looked inside, their mouths fell open at the same time, seeing that they were actual gold coins.

“This, this is way too much! I couldn’t possibly ever accept this!” Phil practically yelled, it really was way too much.

“It’s a thanks, for taking good care of the people. You’re better at it than us, Phil.” George laughs, turning around and walking over to the exit.

Did he really just give Phil that much money? And, did he just insult his own kingdom, again?! Is there something wrong with him? Why is he so generous? So kind? Humble? And man he was attractive, that smile? Messy hair, loose clothing, was he even a Prince?

Alright stop it Dream, yes he’s a Prince, where’d he get all this money from otherwise?

“See you later Phil! And, maybe see you later Clay?” George’s voice suddenly said, catching Dream off guard,

“What? Er, oh, yes, of course!” He quickly responded, “I’ll be staying here for a bit, I have some things to do.”

_‘Like figuring out if I actually want to kill you or not.’_

The Prince smiled, and left the tavern, closing the door behind him.

“Phil? What the fuck?”

“What the fuck indeed.”

Phil walked over to the bar and emptied the pouch. He grabbed one of the coins and examined it, as Dream stood next to him, “They’re actually real aren’t they?”

Phil nodded, “Yep.”

They were both stunned, thinking the same thing. What Prince would just give money away like this? He also insulted his own kingdom, twice! He was so, kind?

No, acted. He _acted_ kind. It must’ve been fake, trying to get others to think he wasn’t a terrible human being, like his parents who were dying in their beds right now.

It was a good strategic plan wasn’t it? If he was going to become King, he’s gonna need people to like him, and being all lovey-dovey with the townspeople would do just that. Clever bastard.

“So, how are we going to kill him? The food thing obviously didn’t work.” Dream finally said to Phil, who was putting the coins back into the pouch. He thought for a bit, tapping his fingers on the counter.

“A pushover innit?” He started, “Bet you could get close to him and mess him up that way.”

“Me?! Why do I have to get close to him?! You’ve practically already done it!” Dream stated. He was somewhat right but he knew it wouldn’t work out. Phil has all this to take care of, he’s a well known person too. If the Prince were to pass away, and Phil was recorded hanging out with him all the time, everyone knew it would be him that did it. Everyone knew were he lived, his routine, his friends, expect Dream.

Dream didn’t often stay in town, he was usually outside the walls, in the dark forest. He wasn’t alone, he had his co-workers Techno and Jack.

Techno was strongly against any form of government, aggressive but still strategic. If you were nice to him he’d be nice back, supporting you through thick and thin, treating you like family. Are you even slightly rude to him however, or if you did something he didn’t like? Then you’ve just made the strongest enemy you’ll ever make, he’ll tear you apart, no matter how long it takes or how hard it gets.

Philza and Techno were good friends. Phil counted as a spy of sorts, people constantly coming over to him drunk out of their minds could be very rewarding, they gained a shit ton of intel from it. He also didn’t agree with the government, and although he wasn’t as aggressive about it as Techno, they still see each other as close allies.

Jack was, interesting to say the least. He used to be a Fool, but fled the castle after being threatened with death when he wasn’t entertaining enough. Techno took him in, as Jack now also resented the Royals. He helped Techno with the planning, and always participated in the violent side of things. He wasn’t very good at it though, often resulting in Techno having to save him, or pay others money to release him from captivity. He seemed more of a liability than a valuable asset, but he added humor to the group, which it lacked tremendously before he joined.

And now Dream. He always wore signature green clothing, and a white mask with a smiley drawn on it. He wasn’t aggressive at all, he was clever. He was a bit too egotistical though, often taking great risks just because he could, instead of playing things the safe way. He loved bragging and showing off, making him extremely well known. Everyone in the kingdom recognized his white smiling mask, often trembling with fear when they saw it.

His real name was Clay. He would only be referred to that when he wasn’t wearing his mask. He loves the attention his Dream persona gave him, but sometimes needed some peace and quiet. He’d hang out with Phil or Wilbur. Niki was nice too, and often Toby and Thomas would be around, being little brats.

“Alright, fine Phil.” Dream sighed. He wasn’t particularly excited about having to spend his time around a Royal, but at least he could try to figure the man out, why he acted so strange compared to the others.

Phil laughed, “Great! What’s the first step then?”


	6. Worried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We might change chapter posting from daily to every two days! school is starting next week sadly, so we'll both have less time.  
> Also we absolutely suck at dialogue, so it might seem off paced or repetitive sometimes, sorry!  
> Happy new year by the way everyone! Love you :)

George has been walking around town for about an hour, admiring and taking in the simplicity of it all. He knows he should head back, Darryl and Callahan were probably worried sick about him, but he didn’t want to. Something in him was holding him back. Was it fear? Anger? Who knows.

Every other person would stay by their parent’s side 24/7 if they heard they were sick, it was a bit more complicated for George though. He never liked his parents, he thought they were cruel and unfit to be rulers. They never listened to him, always ignoring his requests or advice. They barely listened to their actual advisors either, Ranboo got the most ignored out of all.

Ranboo was the voice of the people. He gained information about things happening around town and was responsible to keep track of town morale. He’s often informed the King and Queen about how unhappy the people were, but they simply didn’t care.

George always told himself that if he were King he’d change it all, he’d be kind to the people, understanding. But he never told himself _when_ he’d be King, and now that it’s finally almost time, he’s ignoring it. He’s ignoring his parents being sick, he’s ignoring his responsibilities, he’s postponing it until the last second possible.

Right now he was heading to the stables. He was pretty good with horses, better than average at least. He doesn’t know why he was going there specifically, but anything was better than the castle right now.

“That’s such a dumb name! C’mon think of something better man!” a scratchy somewhat high pitched voice said.

“Hm. Nope.” A different, less scratchy voice said.

George walked towards the voices, entering the stables. He saw two boys, Toby and Thomas standing there bickering about something.

Thomas was sixteen, but he was significantly taller than George. He had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. Toby just turned seventeen, but he was much shorter than Thomas, even shorter than George, he had brown hair and brown eyes. They were both in light armor, probably just back from training.

“Oh! Mr. Prince! Great! Give us your opinion on something would you?” Thomas yelled upon seeing George.

Toby elbowed him, a quiet “Ow!” followed, “You can’t just say Mr. Prince to the Prince Thomas, sheesh.”

George chuckled, “What’s up?”

“Well! Me and big T over here are making up totally awesome and cool knight nicknames! But HE came up with TUBBO! It’s absolutely ridiculous! No one will EVER take him seriously with that name! Tell me you agree Mr. Prince!”

The Prince just laughed and shrugged, “I think it’s fine really.”

Tubbo smiled, “Thank you your highness! See Thomas? It’s totally fine, even the Prince said so!”

“What?! No it’s not f-! Argh whatever. Your choice, ‘Tubbo’” The other grunted as he crossed his arms.

“Do you have a name for yourself, Thomas?” George continued, raising an eyebrow.

“Well not yet but-“

“I think you should call yourself Tommy.” Tubbo suddenly interrupted, “It’s cute!”

“What?! No! cute is the opposite of what I’m going for! I want something to- to show how manly and strong I am!” Thomas yelled, obviously frustrated.

“I think it’s cute too, you should use it Tommy.” George said, giggling slightly at how mad Thomas was becoming.

“Well it’s decided then! Tubbo and Tommy!” Tubbo cheerfully said, a wide smile on his face.

“I didn’t agree to this!” the other yelled, getting more and more frustrated by the second. “You two are horrible!”

Tubbo and George both laughed, very amused at the reaction they were getting out of him.

Then George felt a tug at his cloak. He turned around at whatever or whoever was doing this, Callahan. In the background the two boys continued their bickering, Tubbo trying to convince the other to use the name Tommy.

“Oh hey Callahan!” George greeted as the small man quickly scribbled something on paper.

He turned the paper to George, “ _Where have you been?!”_ it reads out.

Oh right. Callahan is usually the one to wake George up every morning, but that obviously didn’t happen this morning. He must’ve been so worried.

“Ah, I’m sorry Cal, I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just, out.” He didn’t feel like explaining.

“I uh, I got you something though!” George continued, ignoring the glare that Callahan was giving him. He pulls out the bag that had the pastry, and gave it to him. He eagerly took it, wondering what was inside, and opened it immediately.

His eyes lit up as he saw what was in the bag, he quickly took the pastry out and took a big bite out of it. It was like George gave it to a little kid, how cute.

Callahan quickly put the pastry between his teeth, and signed something with his hands, _“Thank you.”_

The Prince smiled, “No problem, Cal.”

Before George could focus on something else though, Callahan quickly signed another word, _“Castle.”_

His smile faded, “Do we have to?” he asked, as he slumped his shoulders. Callahan nodded profusely, others were probably worried about George too. “Alright, fine.”

George turned to Tubbo and Tommy, who were now going on about something else,

“We’re heading off to the castle, see you two later! Don’t cause too much chaos please.” George sighed, but quickly smiled after.

“No promises Mr. Prince! Cya later!” Tommy cheerfully said.

“Goodbye your highness!” Tubbo said after his friend, waving.

They left, off to the castle. George really didn’t want to go, he felt like the walls would suffocate him, like the ceiling would fall down on him, like the ground would morph into spikes, impaling him right through his frail heart. His parents hated him didn’t they? Everyone hated him. People would be disappointed when they heard the news, _“The King and Queen are finally dead! Why’s that pathetic Prince still alive though?”_ God, he really just wanted to run away.

George felt a small hand take his, worried eyes looking up at him. He realized he was standing still, his eyes were glossed over. His thoughts took him too far away again.

“Oh, sorry.” He mumbled and started walking again. Cal kept holding his hand, walking right next to him.

Then, the entrance. Two men were standing there talking to each other, when one of them noticed George and quickly ran over.

“Goodness you’re still alright! We’ve been incredibly worried about you, your highness!” Darryl said, as the other man walked over.

“Hello Darryl, Ranboo. Sorry for worrying you, I’ve just been out, uh, doing stuff, as usual.” The Prince said, his voice slowly becoming quieter as he speaks. He rubs his neck and looks to the side, avoiding eye contact.

“Ah yeah hello your highness. I-I’m glad you’re back, I have something to discuss with you.” Ranboo started, “People seem confused as to uh, as to where the King and Queen have gone. No one, not even the people in the castle, have seen them. I was h-hoping that maybe you knew where they went?”

George lifted his brow, he didn’t know? That must mean they’re still in their room. Doctor Ponk must’ve kept quiet about it. Strange how Darryl hasn’t at least told Ranboo yet though. Guess George should do it.

“Uh, well, they’re sick, in their room.” The Prince mumbled, he still really didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Ranboo looked surprised, “O-oh! That’s, uh, concerning. Why wasn’t I told? Do I tell the people?” he asked. Ranboo was an awkward person, but he tried his best.

“I don’t think you should tell the people, Ranboo.” Darryl buts in, “It’ll only bring unnecessary chaos and concern. I’m sure that they’ll be fine in a few days, and we can pretend it never happened, don’t you agree, your highness?”

George didn’t know how to respond, it made sort of sense to not tell the people? Everything would get tremendously harder if they knew about the Royals being sick. People would probably question if it was a disease of some sort, and if they should be worried. Them finding out would just incite chaos.

“Your highness?” Ranboo’s voice called, snapping the Prince out of his thoughts.

“I, I think we shouldn’t tell them.”


	7. Offer

It’s hard to try and fall asleep when your parents are dying just a few rooms over. The air was suffocating, the pillows felt like bricks, the mattress like the stone cold floor. George felt trapped, like a bunny in a cage with no way out. What was he going to do? The moment his parents would die he would become King, he’d no longer have the luxury of going into town or visiting the gardens. He’d have actual responsibilities, actual important things he’d have a say in. He’d have the weight of more than ten thousand people’s lives on his weak shoulders. Was he going to make it? What if it became too much?

Only the thought of it all was already too much for him.

He’d never make it, he’d never make for a good King.

The door to his room opened, Callahan most likely. George couldn’t see since his face was turned away from the door, but it was Cal’s job to wake him up so it made most sense.

Soft footsteps could be heard walking towards the Prince. As they stopped next to the bed, George felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hi Callahan.”

The hand darted away as a small gasp could be heard. George moved to sit up right in his bed, and looked over to the squire, his facial expression was as if he’d seen a ghost.

George chuckled softly, “Sorry, did I scare you?”

The other crossed his arms and nodded. His expression softened though when he saw the state George was in.

He took out his notebook, “ _Did you not sleep?”_

The Prince sighed and shook his head. Was it that obvious? He probably had dark bags under his eyes, and they must be puffy, since he can’t remember how long he cried for.

_“You should go out today, it usually cheers you up.”_

George hummed. He appreciated Callahan not asking, he was too exhausted to think about it for any longer. Maybe if he went to the tavern he’d see Phil again? Talking to him would make him feel better.

“I’ll go do that Cal, thanks. Are you coming with me?” George looked over to the squire, who was scribbling his answer onto the notepad.

 _“Me and Alyssa have something planned, so no sorry :(“_ He drew a little sad face at the end.

“That’s alright, I hope you have fun.” George smiled, deciding not to question him about it.

Alyssa was the Royal tailor. There were rumors her and Callahan were dating, but they both profusely denied those statements, Saying that that would be inappropriate since both were servants.

“Well go on then, wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.” George said, as Callahan blushed slightly. He quickly turned around and waved, stepping outside and closing the door behind him.

The Prince eventually got up. On his dresser there were clothes that Alyssa put down earlier. He wasn’t going to put them on though, it would be way too obvious if he was walking around in such fancy clothing.

George crouched and opened the bottom drawer, he pulled out the least fanciest clothes he had and his blue cloak. When he got back up his eyes were drawn to another blue object, the flower. It was still there, sitting in the vase. It looked a bit less healthy than when Callahan gave it to him, but that was to be expected.

It would probably die soon.

The Prince breathed in the fresh air as he was standing outside of the inner castle’s walls. Before he went out he made sure to stuff the pouch in the cloak’s pocket with some more money. He realized he gave the previous pouch to Phil, but he luckily had a second one lying around.

Walking over the cobblestone path towards the town’s center, George realized he didn’t eat again. He’s starting to forget more often. Or he just, really didn’t want to. Having to sit in the big dining room, alone, just wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

He remembered the bickering between his parents, his silence.

His last actual conversation between his father and him was a fight. If only he wasn’t so ignorant, if only he didn’t argue with them that day.

A familiar voice could be heard. The Prince looked up from his thoughts, and saw Clay standing in front of the tavern, talking to another man. The man had a Lute strapped to his back, must be the musician, Wilbur.

Clay noticed him, his face went from shock to a smile, as he waved over to him. The other man noticed Clay waving and turned around, his eyes widened.

George approached them, “Hello.” He simply said.

“Your highness! What are you doing here?” Wilbur yell-whispered, as to not alert others.

Before the Prince could respond, Clay intervened, “Want to head inside?”

_‘Like he read my mind.’_

“Gladly!” George responded with a smile.

As they went inside, Wilbur pulled out a stool for the Prince. He was still somewhat confused, but decided to just accept the situation. Clay immediately went to the back, and fairly quickly came back with a plate of pastries.

“Phil isn’t here right now, hope you don’t mind me doing this instead of him.” Clay started.

“Of course it’s not a problem, thank you Clay.” George smiled again, enjoying the smell of the freshly baked goods. “How’d you know I was here for this?”

“Just a hunch.” He responded and shrugged, taking a seat at the bar, but respectfully leaving one seat between him and the Prince. Clay turned around, with his back against the counter, as Wilbur started speaking behind them.

“So, you two, know each other?” He started, “Since when? Clay never told me he knew the literal Prince!”

Clay laughed, “Relax Wilbur, I’ve only known him since yesterday. He just kind of walked in with Phil and we chatted for a bit.”

“Wow, your charms really work on anyone then, huh Clay? He even came back for a second chat!” Wilbur laughed, a warm smile going across his face.

George blushed a little as Clay wheezed, “ _What?_ Yeah, o-kay.”

“If my charms work so well,” He turned his head to George, who finished the pastries given to him earlier. “What do you say to us taking a stroll around town then, your highness?” Clay offered.

Wilbur oo-ed in the background, like a little child.

George’s face flushed a bit more, but he quickly pushed it down as he managed to get out a response, “I- Sure, I guess.” A small smile following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the gift of a friend,  
> slowly coming to an end,  
> before it even started,  
> a wish, that they never parted.
> 
> <3


	8. Redstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting yesterday, we were both obsessively watching The Festival,,

“You’re going to write a song about an animal? That you hate?”

It was a chilly morning. Dream and Wilbur were standing outside of Phil’s tavern, discussing Wilbur’s newest song idea.

“Yes! Anteaters are putrid, they are the _worst_ animal! I could write absolutely ages about their disgusting little lives!” Wilbur responded, his eyes burning with pure fury for the poor creatures.

“Oh my god Wilbur..” Dream silently wheezed, unable to take the other seriously.

Then he noticed a familiar silhouette behind the musician walking up to them. They were wearing a blue cloak, the Prince? Shit.

Dream quickly waved, a fake smile on his face. He really didn’t want to talk to the Prince, he still resented him, but he had to. That Prince was a fraud, a manipulator, only kind so others wouldn’t hate him as much as his parents. It disgusted Dream.

Wilbur noticed Dream waving, and turned around out of curiosity. As he saw the Prince his eyes widened.

“Hello.” The Prince simply said. He didn’t have his usual smile.

“Your highness! What are you doing here?” Wilbur yell-whispered, as to not alert others probably. Not that it mattered, the Prince’s disguise sucked. Wow a cloak must really hide his face or something huh? Literally everyone recognizes him in an instant. Royals were known to be stupid but this? Christ.

He was probably here to eat and talk to Phil. Phil wasn’t there right now though.

“Want to head inside?” Dream asked the Prince.

He smiled, “Gladly!”

Wilbur held the door open, letting Dream and the Prince inside. Dream quickly went to the back to select some pastries to give to the Royal, he knew them for being impatient.

As he came back, the Prince was already seated. He placed the plate in front of him,

“Phil isn’t here right now, hope you don’t mind me doing this instead of him.” Dream started, expecting a harsh response.

“Of course it’s not a problem, thank you Clay.” George smiled again. Dream had to get used to this particular Royal being so kind, even though he was convinced it was fake.

“How’d you know I was here for this?” He followed up.

Dream shrugged, “Just a hunch.”

He walked around the bar and took a seat, leaving one empty between him and the Prince. Wilbur started talking again when Dream leant with his back against the counter,

“So, you two, know each other? Since when? Clay never told me he knew the literal Prince!”

The question seemed to be aimed at the other, but Dream didn’t care. He slightly laughed and answered, “Relax Wilbur, I’ve known him since yesterday. He just kind of walked in with Phil and we chatted for a bit.”

“Wow, your charms really work on anyone then, huh Clay? He even came back for a second chat!” Wilbur smiled, amused.

Dream wasn’t as amused but played along with a fake wheeze and an eye roll, “ _What?_ Yeah, o-kay.”

_‘Let’s get out of here.’_

He turned his face to the Prince, who just finished the baked goods, “If my charms work so well, what do you say to us taking a stroll around town then, your highness?” Dream offered, taking all of his power to not hiss out the last two words.

Wilbur oo-ed in the background, what, is he a little kid?

A small smile creeped onto the Prince’s face, Dream swears his cheeks were redder than before.

“I- Sure, I guess.” He stutters slightly.

Dream wasn’t sure where to head, but the other seemed perfectly fine with just walking around town. He was very quiet, Dream thought Royals would be loud and obnoxious, but this one seemed like the exact opposite.

He wondered how he could keep up his act so long, even Dream wasn’t _this_ good at it.

_‘I haven’t visited Nick in a while.’_

Dream looked down to the man walking next to him, he seemed deep in thought.

“Your highness?” The other jumped slightly, but looked back up at him, and hummed.

“Do you mind if we visit a friend of mine? He works at the blacksmith.”

“Sure!” George smiled.

Dream quickly looked away. His smile seemed, entrancing sometimes, but Dream refused to admit that. He already crossed the line by thinking he was attractive last time.

After just a bit more walking, they arrived at the previously mentioned location. It smelled like burnt wood and metal. Loud clanking could be heard, Sapnap was probably working on something.

As they stepped onto the raised stone, George immediately wandered off. Dream didn’t really care and knocked, or basically slammed his fist, on the door. The clanking stopped, as heavy footsteps could be heard. The door opened, a man with dark hair and a bandana stood in front of him. His eyes lit up immediately after realizing who it was,

“Clay! Hey dude! Haven’t seen you in literally forever!” Nick gave Dream a strong tight hug, lifting him off the ground.

Dream struggled out a laugh, “Yeah I know man, sorry I couldn’t come by earlier.”

His feet touched the ground again as his friend put him down. “It’s fine bro, you didn’t miss much, besides a whole new person of course.”

“What?” Dream lifted a brow.

Nick chuckled and called out a name, “SAM! GET OVER HERE!”

Footsteps could be heard further into the building, becoming louder as an incredibly tall man came walking over. “Nick? Do you need anything?”

“Uh, yeah I need you to finally meet Clay!” Nick said, stepping aside. The tall man looked down at Dream and smiled,

“Hello!” He greeted. One of his arms had golden armor, just the one arm though, strange.

“Uhm, hi!” Dream quickly greeted back, as he pulled his eyes away from the arm.

The smaller man noticed Dream’s previous staring, “His arm’s pretty cool right? He made it himself! It actually fully functions!”

Then it clicked, a prosthetic. It functions though? How? Dream was intrigued.

“That, _is_ pretty cool! How does it work?”

“The mines found an interesting type of stone dust a bit ago, they called it Redstone.” The man known as Sam started, “It glows when you touch it, so I started experimenting with it. It appears to glow every time it comes in contact with energy, and it seemed to also give off energy like movement.” Sam took off his golden arm, the armor clinking quietly. As the arm disconnected with his body the small pockets of Redstone gems and dust stopped glowing.

“It’s not fully done yet, but I’m making new discoveries and finding new uses for the stone every day. Imagine all the things we could create with this!”

Dream was incredibly interested. Sam’s right, so many things could be done with it. Like easier transport, powerful weapons, full automation even! He had to get his hands on some of that stuff.

His thoughts were interrupted, “Clay? Who’s your friend?” Nick pointed past him towards the Prince, who was admiring encased jewelry from behind the window.

The jewelry was mostly gold with silver and some gems, nothing really interesting. But one of the necklaces was different, the gem attached to it glowed. George seemed to have completely tuned out the conversation, staring at the necklace.

“Your highness?” Dream said. The Prince’s head snapped away from the window, and he looked over to the three men who were now all standing outside.

Sam and Nick’s eyes widened as they heard those words, “The _Prince_?” They said in unison.

Dream chuckled, “Yep, the Prince.”

“You’re friends with the Prince, Clay? Since _when_?” Nick asked, absolutely astonished.

He rolled his eyes at the question, “Wilbur asked me the exact same thing, we’re no-”

“Oh yeah? What’d you tell him?” Nick interrupted, grinning, “That you two aren’t friends, but you’re dating?” He laughed, Sam chuckling along.

“Oh my god, Nick! Don’t joke about that! You’re not funny!” Dream lied, giving himself away by wheezing. He looked at the Prince, who’s face was just as flushed as that morning.

He looked like he wasn’t going to say anything, but then to Dream’s surprise came up with a response as he scoffed, “Only in his dreams, Nick” George snickered, as Nick lost it further. Sam put a hand on his short friend’s shoulder to keep him from falling.

Dream scoffed back, crossing his arms. “Right, right. Let’s just move on.”

After the laughter died down, Sam started talking, “So what were you looking at, your highness?”

The prince looked back at the jewelry, “The necklace! It’s glowing?” he answered in a questioning tone.

“Oh yeah, it’s a new stone the miners found, it glows for a few minutes after being touched. I just placed it there a bit ago so it’d make sense its still glowing, should run out any second though.”

Just as the Prince looked back over to the necklace, the gem stopped glowing.

“Oh! That’s amazing!” George said excitedly, his hands on the glass.

“I know right?” The tall man said, walking over to the Prince, he hummed, “So did you not know about the stone? That’s strange, I thought the Prince of all people would know?”

The other just shrugged, “I might’ve heard something but I don’t think I was directly told.”

“Well!” Nick butted in, “Since you’re both so interested, why doesn’t Sam show you all of his creations?” He smiled.

Sam smiled back and nodded, “I have many things to show you guys, Come on in!” He said cheerfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We enjoy writing Dream's pov,  
> His thinking of the Prince is obviously twisted and untrue, most of his mind is telling him George's a bastard, refusing to narrate him by his name, refusing to see him as human.  
> But sometimes, when George does small things like smile, or joke (something Dream doesn't see a Royal being capable of) narration will use his actual name :)


	9. Pillars

After a few hours of hanging out with Sam and Nick, the Prince said he had to head back. Apparently he snuck out, because the guards would be annoying and follow him around if they knew. Dream understood, but knows obviously that there’s more going on.

Dream offered to walk the other back to the Castle, with excuse that he had to go to the tavern anyway. He’s trying to hang out with him as much as possible, he has to gain the Prince’s trust. He’s still not quite sure how he’s going to get rid of him, or if he even wants to.

George seemed, genuinely nice and kind. A part of Dream is yelling at him, saying it’s all a lie, I mean he’s doing the exact same thing. Pretending to be nice, to be the other’s friend. But George seemed different, it felt genuine. The apologies when he bumps into someone, or the heartfelt thank you’s when he receives something. He’s just not like Dream imagined a Royal to be.

Maybe it was only his parents that were cruel? Maybe George was different?

But if that was the case, why hasn’t he acted on his beliefs yet? He’s the Prince, he has power, maybe not as much as the King and Queen but, he could still achieve something right? If he was a good person compared to his parents, why hasn’t he done anything good for the people yet?

Dream was still convinced it was fake.

“-Clay?” He heard a voice next to him. He must’ve been too deep in thought to hear him.

“Oh uh, Yeah?” he turns his head to the other.

George snickered, “What were you thinking so profusely about?” He asks, looking back up at Dream as they continued walking.

He furrows his brows slightly, “Nothing nothing, what did you say?” Dream quickly ignores the question, looking forward again.

“I said that your friends seem nice.” George responded.

“Oh.” Dream started, “Well I only knew Nick, he introduced me to Sam while you were admiring that dumb necklace.” He laughed slightly, “Did you really not hear any of our conversation?”

George scoffed, “Well to my defense! It was a really cool necklace alright? I mean it’s not everyday you see a glowing gem!” He stated, dramatically putting a hand on his chest.

Dreams rolled his eyes, “Why didn’t you just ask for it then? They would’ve given it to you for free, you’re the Prince after all.”

The other took his hand off his chest, “What?” He looked up to Dream, “Why would I do that? I’m sure a lot of time and effort went into it, I couldn’t have just asked for it for free, and I didn’t have enough money with me to buy it.”

Huh, interesting. Yesterday he gave Phil that huge amount of gold, and now he’s refusing to take a free item just because it’s worth so much? Why was he so strange?

Dream just hummed as a response, continuing walking the street, avoiding busy people trying to get to their destination. He made fun of the Prince’s disguise earlier, but people really didn’t seem to notice that well, so apparently it did somehow work.

“Hey, Clay?” The Prince then suddenly asked,

“Yeah?”

“How do you know Nick? You two seem incredibly close, but you lived in an entirely different kingdom a bit ago, correct?” He continued, looking up at Dream, raising a brow.

_‘Shit uhh,’_

“We moved together. We both wanted a fresh start.” God that was a bad lie, he could easily see through that.

…

Although, if the Prince truly didn’t hear the conversation earlier, then that means he didn’t hear Nick say it has been ages until they last spoke, right?

“Oh! How nice! So you two are childhood friends?” George asked with a smile.

_‘How can someone be so oblivious?’_

“Uh yeah! Pretty much.” He slightly smiled back.

That was not, a complete lie.

As mentioned in the beginning of this story, Dream was found by Phil as a little kid. He didn’t have anything, his parents passed away, participating in a giant war that was fought. He only had his friend, Nick, but his parents didn’t want them to hang out.

No one was left to take care of Dream.

Until Phil found him months later. He was going around the market place, snatching things from carts and laughing at people that yelled at him, until he ran straight into Phil, literally.

* * *

The boy fell to the ground, the impact throwing several items out of his grip. He quickly got up, picking up the items hastily, the boy was scrawny, his clothes torn, looked like he hadn’t eaten well, Phil felt bad.

“Did you steal those?” He asked in a calm tone.

“What if I did?” The young boy gave a snarky response, looking up at Phil.

He continued, “Where are your parents?”

Silence.

“Oh.” Phil mumbled.

He lowered himself to the others eye level, “What’s your name, kid?”

The boy seemed surprised, he probably expected Phil to yell at him.

“Clay.” He answered.

“Would you like to stay with me, Clay? I own the inn just a few streets further, you can pick any room you’d like.”

“I’m doing just fine on my own actually.” Clay refused, looking down at the ground angrily.

“Are you sure? We have plenty amounts of food, the beds are nice and soft, we have music and-“

The boy’s eyes lit up, “Music? I like music!”

Phil laughed, “You do? Well we have the best musician that can sing you songs every day whenever you’d like.”

“Really? I wanna stay with you!” He said excitedly.

“Great! Let’s return these things then, alright? My name’s Philza by the way, you can call me Phil.” He gave a reassuring smile, standing back up and holding out his hand. Clay gladly took it, and followed along.

* * *

As they arrived at the tavern, George said his goodbye, cheerfully waving at Dream in the distance.

“He seems to already like you huh?”

Dream jumped at the unexpected voice, but quickly calmed down. He turned to see Phil.

“I suppose so.” He hummed.

“What’s that look?” Phil questioned, raising a brow.

Dream raised a brow back, “What do you mean?”

Phil thought for a bit, his eyes narrowing, “Nevermind.” He then said in a suspicious tone.

_‘Alright then?’_

“Anyways, come In Clay! I have lunch prepared, and Wil said he has a new song for us!” Phil smiled, opening the door.

“Sounds good!” Clay smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lies were built on a pillar,  
> The lies so heavy, that the thin and weak support was bound to fail,  
> As he continues stacking, and the lies become heavier and taller,  
> He refuses to realize, that one day, it will all falter
> 
> <3


	10. Denial

Before George left the castle this morning, Darryl had requested him to come to the library at noon. He didn’t specify why, but it seemed important.

The library was a giant room on the second floor, filled with books obviously, but also a big round table in the center of it. The round table had a map of the kingdom and all surrounding lands engraved on it. The table was used for important meetings, like discussion of war, strategizing. It hasn’t been used with that purpose in mind for almost 13 years now though.

No one really uses the library that often, usually just taking whichever book they needed and leaving. George however, did use the library often.

Above the big round table, in the ceiling, there was a glass dome. When it was the middle of the night, the moon shone directly through that dome, illuminating the giant book filled room in a magical way. George often came there when he couldn’t sleep, and sat on the table just so he could stare out the dome into the night sky.

During the day, he also obviously sat at the table normally, reading books about plants most of the time. Mushrooms fascinated him the most. He’s heard tales about a big dark forest with mushrooms as tall as the trees themselves. No one has been able to confirm those tales though, since everyone that entered the forest was rumored to never, ever, return.

George thought about it often, entering the forest, seeing the so-called giant mushrooms for himself. He was too much of a wuss to actually do it though, what if he did actually never ever return?

It had scared him previously, but now with everything going on,

Maybe, disappearing, didn’t seem so bad..?

He discarded the thought, climbing up the big stairs that lead to the second floor. As he set foot again on the red, brown yellowish for him, carpet, the bright light from outside shone straight into his eyes, forcing him to close them.

A thought shot through his head, his parent’s room was across from him.

He always used to take these stairs up to the second floor, as it was closest to the castle’s entrance. Lately though, he’s been avoiding these stairs as to not have to see, or even think about his parent’s room. He must’ve been too deep in thought to actively go over to the other set of stairs, damned auto-pilot.

Hesitantly opening his eyes again, he sees doctor Ponk coming out of his parent’s room, holding a few books.

The doctor always wore a fire colored mask of sorts. It only revealed his eyes and a part of his forehead. Nobody was sure why he wore it, but no one really cared that much either.

Ponk’s expression seemed gloomy, worsening when seeing the Prince walking over to him.

“H-hello your highness!” He began, trying his best to seem cheerful.

“Hello Ponk.” George responded, now standing in front of the other.

“I was just about to head off but uh, should I inform you about your parent’s situation first?”

The Prince stood silent, did he want to know? Did he want to know the state his parents were in? It’s already breaking his heart just standing there, the lingering aura of death coming from the cracks of the door, creeping its way into George’s head like a parasite.

He nodded.

“Well, uh, so far the symptoms they’re showing are sensitivity to light, decreased eye sight, uhm,” He opens the top book in his arms and continues reading, ”balancing issues, migraine and rash.”

He closes the book, looking back at George, his expression with pain. “Their symptoms are worsening fast. I’ve never seen something this, this strong before, I- I worry how much longer they have, your highness.” Ponk explains cautiously.

George blinks, trying to process everything that was just told to him.

Footsteps could be heard from the other side of the door, Ponk swiftly turned around, as the big heavy door was slowly opened.

“Ponk? Whoever are you talking this loudly to?” a hoarse voice spoke.

There stood a man, shielding his eyes from the light. The King,

His father.

His skin was red, and as the man looked over to George, he could see his father’s eyes were red as well.

George took a step back, it felt like his heart was cracking, bleeding into his chest. His legs began to tremble, his breath began to shudder.

Tears threatened to escape his glossed over eyes. he was glad his vision was starting to become blurry, he couldn’t bare to see any longer.

He took another shaky step back, and before his father could speak up, he ran. He forced his weak legs to carry him away from the devastating sight, he didn’t want to go through this, he refused to accept it.

He couldn’t lose them,

he didn’t want to,

he didn’t want things to change,

He didn’t deserve this.

Ponk’s voice could be heard behind him, calling for his name. George ignored it, a loud sob leaving his lips.

His legs took a right turn, and continued to bring him to the library’s entrance.

He shoved open the heavy doors, slamming them closed behind him.

His legs finally give up. He loses balance, collapsing to the ground, his back against the door.

Exasperated sobs continue to leave his mouth, tears streaming down his face. He pulled his shaky legs to his chest, hugging them tight.

“Oh my goodness, G-George?!”

His eyes squeezed shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the sun goes down,  
> a petal falls to the ground,  
> from shock to denial,  
> you have started the trial.
> 
> <3


	11. Thanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11th chapter posted on the 11th :)

“George please, breathe!” A voice could be heard.

He recognized it, but he couldn’t focus. His breathing was too fast and his mind was racing. It felt like he had daggers in his stomach, in his head, in his heart. His body was shaking, unable to sit still. The ground felt as if it was opening up under him, like it would swallow him whole. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, the ceiling felt like it was going to come crashing down any second.

A hand could be felt on his shoulder, the warmth surging him awake.

“George, look at me, hey,” The voice said again, in a calm yet worried tone.

The prince hesitantly lifted his head, looking over his tear soaked arms that he was previously nestled in. Two worried green, yellow, eyes were in front of him. The man’s smile helped soothe George immediately, his heart beat slowing down steadily.

“There there, breathe for me please.” Darryl spoke, his voice quiet, but just loud enough to be above a whisper.

George took a long yet staggering breath in, a warm hand moving to hold one of his.

“C’mere George.” Darryl pulled him in for a hug, his previously pushed against his chest legs lowering to the ground.

The other’s arms wrapped around the prince, as he placed his teary face in Darryl’s shoulder.

They sat like that for what felt like ages, until George’s cries silenced, only occasional hiccups to be heard.

The prince mustered up the courage to speak, his words scraping along his hurting throat like dull knives, “T-Thank you, Darryl.” He hoarsely spoke, carefully backing away from the comfort of the hug.

“Are you okay now, your highness?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

He just nodded, he wasn’t okay but better than beforehand at least. “I’m sorry.”

Darryl shushed him, “You have nothing to apologize for alright? C’mon let me help you up.”

The other carefully helped getting the frail prince off of the cold ground. He tried his best not to push his full weight onto him, but his legs were still trembling from the outburst.

Darryl put George’s arm around his shoulder, leading his way over to the round table in the center of the large dusty room.

“Sit down,” Darryl huffs, as he pulled out a chair.

George practically collapsed down on the soft cousions of the seat. He still felt weak, like he was about to cry again any second. Darryl sat down across from him, pushing away a book that was laid open in front of him. He was probably just peacefully reading before George had to barge in and ruin everything again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, your highness, whatever happened that would’ve gotten you this upset?” Darryl began, his voice laced with worry and compassion.

“My parents.” Is all George said, refusing to elaborate on the matter.

Darryl’s brows furrowed in understanding as he nodded slightly, “I’m sorry that you have to go through this your highness, remember that I’m always here for you, alright?” a small reassuring smile showing on his face.

“Thank you Darryl, again.” George smiled back. His breath had steadied a little, and his hands were trembling less, but his heart was still beating in his throat, making it hard to concentrate.

“I, had something planned but, I’m not sure if we should go through with that.” Darryl begins after a few seconds of silence. He scratched his chin a little, looking back at George.

“Oh yeah,” the prince mumbled, “What did you have planned?” He questioned, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Well, ehm,” the other looked back at his hands, seeming to overthink his next words. “Let’s just talk about it tomorrow alright? I couldn’t possibly bother you with that right now.”

“Oh, alright. If you say so.”

“How about we go to the gardens, those cheer you up right? I know a thing or two about plants, we could chat there for a bit, get your mind off of all this?” He then offered, a slight doubt in his voice.

“That is, if you feel up to it of course, your highness.”

George couldn’t help but smile at the proposal, Darryl knew him well. “I’d love that Darryl.” He spoke.

The other looked surprised, but quickly formed a big smile on his face, “Great!”

The walk through the castle was in a comfortable silence between the two, but around them it was still noisy. The second floor of the castle barely had any servants, as none of the important rooms were located there. But the first floor was full of them, all running around hastily with items in their arms. Guards were more frequent too, making sure everything was in order. George had grown to drown out the other people, as he’s walked these halls everyday for his entire life.

He had changed into his usual fancy clothes, instead of the ones he usually wears when he goes out. Before walking out the inner castle walls, Darryl had successfully convinced the stationed guards to let the prince and him out unaccompanied, promising that it was perfectly safe and that they weren’t going out far. The guards hesitantly agreed, letting them go into town.

Walking over the bridge leading from the castle to the town square, George spoke up, breaking the silence, “Hey, thanks again by the way. I really appreciate this.”

“It’s not a problem, your highness. I’m doing the least I can.” Darryl replies from next to George, a smile still on his face.

George hums, “I know but, I still appreciate it. You’ve been there for me more than anyone I know.”

Darryl’s smile turns into a somber one, “I wish I could be there for you even more, your highness. Especially now with what’s going on, I apologize for being so busy.”

George shook his head, “Your work is time consuming and important, you shouldn’t apologize for doing what’s asked of you.”

“I suppose so.” He hums. “Still though, I’ll be sure to make some more free time for you alright? I have much to teach you and help you with.”

Oh right, George was going to become king soon.

He preferred not to think any further about it, and just thanked Darryl once again.


	12. Newly-found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man school sucks, even with online lessons it's hard to find time, apologies!

“I see why you enjoy coming here so often, your highness. It’s a wonderful garden.” Darryl spoke, admiring the many colorful flowers.

George hums and slightly smiles. He was thankful of Darryl for bringing him to this place but he still wasn’t feeling optimal. His hands were still trembling and he was very much still on edge. The slightest sounds would startle him, and he’d probably burst out crying again if someone made the wrong choice of words.

“Your highness?” A familiar voice could be heard from behind him, it didn’t startle George surprisingly, he knew whose voice it was after all. When he turned around to confirm his suspicions, a comfortable smile sprung upon his face.

“Hi Clay.” George greeted, trying his best to seem cheerful for the other. Darryl noticed the interaction and turned around, a confused look drawn on his face.

“Right, Uhm,” Clay cleared his throat quickly, “Greetings, your highness, whatever might you be doing here?” 

The prince laughed softly, his eyes crinkling, “There’s trying and there’s trying too hard, Clay. Just because Darryl is here doesn’t mean you have to be all stuck-up.” George pointed out over the very obviously forced question.

Clay dramatically exhaled, smiling shortly after. He looked over to the person next to George, studying him, “So, Darryl is your name?”

“Ah, yes!” He said, still a little confused, “Are you and the prince friends?”

Clay was leaning against one of the orange coloured trees, his arms crossed. “I dunno, are we?” He looked over to George, raising an eyebrow. 

George giggled, “Of course we are.” 

His mood was lifted immensely as they chatted for a while longer, giving George a much-needed distraction from whatever got into him that morning. 

Clay seemed a bit distant with Darryl though, something seemed off for some reason. He’d give him more snarky responses than usual or often rolled his eyes at the other. Maybe he didn’t like Darryl? That’s strange though, Darryl gave him no reason to develop a disliking to him. He’s always kind and open-minded, always smiling too.

George discarded the thought, it was probably nothing. 

Amongst all the gorgeous flowers, George saw something else. A small bush or tree of sorts? It grew individual black berries, along with what George assumed is purple and white flowers. What plant was this? It seemed familiar but he couldn’t quite recall. Perhaps he read about it in one of the books? 

“Clay? Do you know anything about plants?” George asked, turning to the man a bit further into the garden. Clay looked over to him and shrugged, 

“No, not really.” He responded, “Why?” 

He walked over to George, looking down at the crouching prince. His eyes seemed to widen a fair bit after noticing the tree, his shoulders tensing.

“Is something wrong?” George questioned, noticing the subtle changes in the other.

“Oh! Uh, no no nothing is wrong.” 

“Alright if you’re sure.” Whatever. “I wanted to ask if you knew something about this fruit? I haven’t seen it before.” 

The prince looked back at the plant, studying the flowers that were amongst the void black berries. His curiosity peaked, he reached out to the little round fruits, almost taking one in his hand.

“Don’t just-!”

Another hand aggressively grabbed his wrist, stopping him right before he was able to even touch the fruit. George stumbled back a bit and Clay immediately let go, lowering next to George, his arm swept around the other, preventing him from falling. 

The prince looked over to Clay with a confused expression. Suddenly realizing how close they were, Clay pulled away swiftly, his cheeks seemingly reddening, 

He cleared his throat, raising a hand to his mouth, “You can’t just grab fruit from a plant you don’t know George, what if it, er,” He questioned his next words, ”what if it was toxic?” He then asked with reason, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Well I wasn’t going to eat it, Clay! I may be stupid but I’m not an idiot!” George acted offended, and the other chuckled, previous tension in his shoulders disappearing.

“Right right well still, watch out alright?”

George smiled, “Since when do you care so much about me, hm?” He teased, “Also that’s the first time I’ve heard you say my name I think!” he continued almost excitedly, his eyes lighting up.

Clay just scoffs in response, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, don’t make me regret it.”

The prince laughed as Clay helped him up, seemingly forgetting about the newly found plant.


	13. Unlucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pov change at the line, hope it's not confusing :)

The sun hung high in the sky as Clay and George were sitting under one of the big apple trees in the garden. Darryl had to leave as he had business to attend to. George often forgets how busy the people from the castle can be, and is definitely not excited about it for when he’s king.

He’s not going to be able to go outside as much anymore, he’ll be stuck in that prison, making major decisions for an entire kingdom. It scared him, terrified him even. It could be any day now until it’d happen, and even though he knew that Darryl and Callahan would have his back, he still felt like he wasn’t ready.

His parents would just, be gone. They can’t guide him through it, they can’t help him. They’d be dead and leave him alone in that godforsaken castle. He’d be alone.

Alone.

The word was echoing through his head, ripping any coherent thoughts to shreds. His throat was starting to hurt, his vision started to get blurry.

No, don’t cry, not in front of Clay.

Stop being pathetic George.

The ground was swaying,

Stop it.

His ears were ringing,

_ Stop crying. _

His hands started shaking, his eyes squeezed shut,

_ STO- _

__

“Your highness?”

* * *

Faint noises could be heard from next to him. It sounded like, crying?

Dream looked down from the sky, his eyes following the trail of quiet sounds.

They landed on the hunched over brown-haired boy next to him. The sounds came from George? Why was he crying?

Dream hesitantly reached a hand over to one of his shoulders, the expensive fabric feeling smooth to his fingertips.

“Your highness?”

The other's head shot up, frantic eyes looked back at Dream. His freckled cheeks were wet, his usual smile was gone.

_ ‘Shit, what do I do?’ _

“Y-your h- George? W-what's wrong?”

Why’d he say George again? He slipped up earlier too, even stopping the other from taking the very thing that poisoned his parents. He, caught, him. Why did he do that?

“I-i'm fine.” G- the prince spoke quietly, tears crawling their way down his face.

No, he wasn’t, but why would Dream care?

When Geo- the prince asked since when Dream cared about him so much, he couldn’t answer. He doesn’t care. He’s not  _ supposed _ to care.

Just say okay, just accept the answer,

“Are you sure? You're, you're crying.”

…

Way to go dumbass.

The prince quickly rubbed his eyes, trying to dry the many tears.

“I'm sorry.” He mumbled, his voice quiet and shaky.

_ ‘Shit.’ _

“Hey no, don’t apologize. Just, tell me what’s on your mind alright?”

Why’d he  _ say _ that? He doesn’t want to know. Or maybe he does? He could gain intel maybe? Sure let's go with that, he wants to gain intel that’s why he asked, right?

“N-no I, I'm fine r-really,” he repeated, but his tears betrayed him, more emerging from his glossy eyes.

“C'mon now, George.” Dreams voice lowered, tainted with worry.

Stop caring, you don’t care.

“C-clay I can't, I d-don't,” The other’s voice trailed off, he was looking at his shaky hands.

He balled them in fists, his crying started to pick up. “I..”

“I can trust you, right?” George asks, pleads even, as he lifts his head towards Dream, staring him straight into his eyes.

Even though it was hard to notice, his eyes were both a different shade of brown. One was lighter than the other. They were sprinkled with gold flakes, the sun reflecting off of the wet surface.

What was he supposed to say? He has to tell him that he can trust Dream obviously but, something is yelling at him, something inside of him is screaming for him to tell the truth. Why would you break his heart like this? He’s literally crying and you’re just going to lie to him? You  _ murdered _ his parents and now he’s about to open up to you. You’re a monster, you lied to him, you dragged yourself into this. You ruined his life. You know he’s not a bad person. he doesn’t deserve this and you know it.

And yet you keep lying to yourself, saying that it’s a facade, that he’s  _ pretending  _ to be nice. You've spent hours around him, seeing him interact with others. You know he didn’t fucking deserve this and yet here you are,

“Yeah, of course you can trust me, George.” Dream smiled slightly.

Lying to him, again and again.


	14. Exhaustion

George’s tear covered lips twist into a small smile for a few seconds but quickly return to their prior sad state.

Dream feels his stomach start to swirl, he hated it.

“Just tell me what’s going on, I'm here to listen.” He cooed. He hated how his voice was once again laced with worry. Worry for the man he’s supposed to kill, compassion for the man he’s supposed to _hate_.

George shifts position, his eyes falling to the ground. “My parents,” He started, “They, they’re dying.” his voice cracked slightly. 

Dream stood silent, he decided to just listen. He no longer wanted to hear the intoxicating care in his voice. What was he supposed to say anyway? He’s the one who caused this, he’s the one who set George’s parents up for their doom.

“T-they, soon they, they'll leave, leave me, this kingdom, a-and-" George’s voice was cut off by a sob, his head falling into his hands. "I'll be alone," he mumbled, "I don't know how to rule a kingdom, Clay!" He cried out, shooting his head back up at Dream, tears streaming down his face. "I'm not cut out for this, I just, I wish I could just run away you know?"

Dream flinches from the sudden yelling, a hand moving to the side of him to keep balance. Why did it pain him seeing George like this?

Quickly, as he stabilizes his balance, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the other, making sure George's head was against his chest. The warmth was comforting, the rosy smell coming from him was calming. Dream’s stomach started to swirl again, it felt, different this time.

The upset prince seemed shocked, his sorrow stopped for a few seconds, as he was processing what had happened. After consideration though, George wrapped his shaky arms around Dream too, and continued his sobbing, his shoulders shaking, tears staining the other's shirt.

Dream knows he should let go but he can’t. Why does he suddenly care so much? He didn’t care when he poisoned his parents, but now that George is here? In front of him, bawling his eyes out? Now that Dream can see his beautiful achingly teary eyes, his usual enchanting smile wiped off of his perfect stunning face,

Stop, he has to stop. His thoughts were taking him too far. He can’t, George's a royal, royals are scum. Techno would kill him. Him and George. Phil would be disappointed, he _has_ to hate him, nothing positive would come from actually befriending a royal.

Luckily, George pulls away fast enough before Dream could decide anything. “I'm, I'm so sorry. I-i didn’t mean for you to witness me like this." He mumbled, his unsteady hands rubbing away his tears.

Dream furrows his brows and backs up slightly, giving the other some room. He wanted to say something, anything, but a lump was stuck in his throat. His stomach made him feel like throwing up, he felt, horrible.

For the first time he’s realized the consequences of his actions. He hated it. He hated how George made him feel. He's supposed to hate him, he’s a royal, but he's so nice, so kind.

George laughs an awkward laugh, looking back up at Dream. He was still shivering, and tears were still slowly trickling down his cheeks. “W-we had a good time today, sorry for ruining it.” He quietly said, his voice filled with sadness.

Dream just smiles, “No no don’t worry, you didn’t ruin anything.”

He did kind of have a good time, and even though he hated to admit it, George was great company.

Never thought he’d say that about a royal.

“I hope so.” George smiled back, “I appreciate you, Clay. I'm glad we’re friends.”

Dream’s stomach swirls again,

_‘Friends.’_

Maybe it was a nice thought after all.

They sat there for a little while longer, resting against the tree, basking in the sun. George seemed tired, probably didn't get a good night's sleep. Guilt seeped through Dream's mind. He knew it was because of what he's done. 

He discarded the thoughts as he felt a nudge against his shoulder. Carefully looking over, he realized it was George's head leaning on him. He seemed to be asleep, the crying must've exhausted him even more.

Dream is still conflicted, misguided hate won't just suddenly disappear. 

Maybe he could bring him to the inn, he could get a decent nap there. How was Dream going to get him there though? It would seem rather suspicious if some random guy was carrying the literal prince, who was unconscious mind you, somewhere.

"Finally killed him, eh mate?" A voice could be heard from the right of Dream, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked up at the familiar green wearing man, a smile on his face like usual. 

Right, Phil. What was he supposed to say? That he didn't want to kill him anymore? That he changed his mind about him? The lies were starting to get really overwhelming. What would happen if everyone found out?

Dream sighed, "Nope, just asleep. Poor guy probably didn't shut an eye last night."

"Mhm, asleep on your shoulder?"

Dream furrowed his brows, "Yeah? So what?"

Phil hummed with an all-knowing smile, "No reason."

"Just help me get him to the inn, would you?" Dream grumbled, carefully turning to take George's upper body in his arms.

Phil chuckled, "Sure."

"To what room?" Dream asked, taking careful backward steps up the stairs.

"He's your responsibility. Just put him in your room."

"Wha- really? Dude." He replied annoyed.

"I'm kidding, any room is fine." Phil laughed, as Dream rolled his eyes.

Finally having arrived on the second floor, Dream opens a room with his elbow, making sure to keep ahold of the prince. He was really just sleeping through all this like a brick huh? 

walking through the cozy space towards the bed, they lift George up, and carefully place him down on the soft mattress. He looked so peaceful asleep.

"Alright now let's go, don't wanna wake him up." Dream mumbles, turning his head away from the prince, shooing Phil out the room and following right after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> L to Dream thinking he just wants to be friends 🙄


	15. Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all watched yesterdays Dsmp stream? Let's just say we cried.  
> Also, not only is English not our first language, one of us is really not that good at reading (not dyslexia, just horrendous at reading), which means we're forced to write at the level a 11 year old could read 💔

It was around 4 pm. George had been asleep for about an hour now. In all that time Dream has just been sitting in his room, staring out the window above the desk. He could be doing more productive things, but he was too concerned over the man sleeping in the room next to his.

What was his next move?

A knock could be heard on the door, “Clay?” Phil’s muffled voice spoke.

“Come in.” Clay replied, still staring out the window.

He wasn’t looking at anything particularly interesting, just the garden that was located behind the inn. The garden where George cried into his shoulders about something Dream did to him without knowing it. It bugged him, the guilt crawling its way along his spine. Yet he kept staring at that one specific tree they were sitting under, a small part of him secretly wishing they could actually be friends.

“Are you alright, mate? You’ve been in your room for at least an hour now. What have you even been doing?” Phil walks up beside him, looking through the window curiously trying to find the thing that was catching Dream’s attention.

Dream hummed, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Phil raised a brow, “You’ve been doing nothing the entire time?”

“Yep.”

Phil looked down at Dream who was seated at the desk. “Right.”

“Is this about the prince?” Phil then asked, crossing his arms.

Dream’s shoulders tense. How did he know? Was it that obvious?

“It’s, no it’s not about the prince.” He lied, ignoring the glare burning into his head. 

“Clay, you know I can read you like an open book. Tell me what’s buggin’ you about him. More of an asshole than you thought he’d be?” Phil joked, chuckling as he put a hand on Dream’s shoulder.

He sighed, looking down at his own hands. Should he tell him? Probably. What if Phil got mad though? He didn’t often get mad but when he did he would be absolutely terrifying, and this seems like something he’d get mad at.

“Clay..?” The other’s voice could be heard again.

“You won’t get mad, right Phil? If I tell you what’s wrong?” Dream asked, looking over his shoulder slightly.

Phil’s expression turned serious, “Of course not, son.”

The tension in Dream’s shoulders lightened a little at the use of that word, but he was still definitely nervous.

“Well, i..” He started, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I think that the pr- that _George_ is different.” 

Phil sat down on the edge of Dream’s bed, as Dream turned to face him, “How so?” he questioned.

_‘So far so good.’_

“Well, I mean, he’s just, different ya know?” Dream scratched his chin, avoiding eye contact, “He’s, so much, kinder? I don’t know, I, he just acts different. He _is_ different. He’s way more different than how you and Techno described royals to be. He actually cares about people, he apologizes when bumping into someone, he doesn’t just ask for items but actually pays for them, he just-“

“So you’re saying you don’t want to kill him?” Phil interrupts.

Dream’s head shoots up, “Yes!” But he quickly looks back down, “Well no, I-I don’t know.”

Phil just hummed, thinking over what Dream said. He’s not mad at least which was a good thing.

“He’s just not like the others, Phil. He- he doesn’t even want to _be_ king! He’s crushed by what’s happening to his parents, he hasn’t slept well at all and-“

“Right, I’ve heard enough, Dream.”

He was shocked at the use of that name, leading him to quickly look back up at Phil’s gaze. He shook his head quickly, “Wait, Phil, please don’t be mad at me, you have to understand!” 

“Clay,”

Dream squeezed his eyes shut, “Just listen to me I promise he-“

“No, Clay, listen to _me_.” Phil put his hands on Dream’s shoulder, making him open his eyes again. “You can believe whatever you want, alright? I’m not here to change your mind. What I am here to do though, is to make you remember who, you, are.” 

He sighed, his eyes closing for a few seconds before opening again,

“You,” He pressed his finger accusingly against Dream’s chest, “You are _Dream_. _You_ directly did this to his parents, and if he _finds out_ who you are, and what you’ve _done_ ? Believe me when I say he will throw you in the cellars, he’ll have you burned at stake, he’ll have you lynched, he’ll torture you until you’d _want_ to die.”

Dream’s vision became slightly blurry. Why? Stop that.

“Clay, I’m not saying what you can and cannot do, but son, as your father, I’m advising you strongly to not become friends with him, for your _own safety._ ”

All Dream could do was nod. Phil was right. 

He knew Phil was right.

But something inside of him was _begging_ for him to stay friends with George, to get to know the other better, to hang out with him more. 

His ego was telling him that George was different, that he’d _never_ execute him. But the sensible part of him was basically slapping him across the face. Of course he’d have you executed. Maybe he’d force you to eat that fruit you made his parents eat, maybe he’ll let you starve to death in the cold dusty cellars instead, or what about ripping off your limbs one by one so that-

“C’mon mate, I have some shit you could do for me to get your mind off of it all. Let’s hope that bastard wakes up by then. I don’t want a _r_ _oyal_ to spend the night here.” Phil stood up, pulling Dream up along with him.

 _'He’s different though.’_ Dream thought, walking out the room after him.


	16. Cold

Freezing air bit at George’s skin, his eyes opened.

Darkness. 

Where was he? Why was it so goddamn cold?

He started walking over the hard stone floor. His heavy footsteps echoed throughout the vast empty space.   
His feet were hurting, what are these shoes? They’re so uncomfortable.

As he was trying to take in his surroundings, a cry could be heard, 

“George?”

The prince stopped in his tracks and sharply turned his head toward the mention of his name.

That voice, why did he recognize it? And how did it know his name?

His eyes started to actively dart across the void trying to find whoever or whatever previously spoke. After a while, the same voice could be heard again, followed by the clanking of metal, “George, please.”

Now it started to freak him out,

“H-hello? Who- Who are you?” George decided to call out back.

“That’s not funny, George. Please don’t make me stay here.”

Whose voice was that? It sounded so familiar. And what was it even talking about? 

The loud scraping of metal against the stone floor could be heard again. 

George’s legs started wavering towards the noise, but it wasn’t him. Something was controlling him. 

“W-wait what’s-“ 

His legs abruptly stopped. 

Before his feet there laid a golden necklace. A crimson red gem was attached to the end of it. 

George decided to take a closer look at it, lowering himself to the cold floor. He recognized the necklace, it was the one he saw at the forge, right? 

He decided to reach out his hand towards the perfectly cut gem. 

He touched it, his freezing fingers startled by the surprising warmth radiating from the stone. 

Strange, wasn’t it supposed to give off light?

“I’m so sorry, George.” The voice sounded closer. It seemed like whoever owned the voice was tearing up.

He looked up from the necklace. A few meters in front of him an iron chain was laying on the floor, it gave off just the tiniest bit of light.

“Sorry? For wha-“

Before he could speak any further, a blinding red flash interrupted him and consumed the darkness of the void.

His eyes shot open as he gasped for air. Sitting up quickly he could feel his heart pound in his ears. All he could hear was ringing, and the image of the golden necklace was planted in his sight.

What was that nightmare? Was there a meaning behind all that?

It was cold. Not as cold as in the dream but still enough to make George’s skin crawl. A slight pain could be felt in the lower half of his spine, this bed wasn’t as comfy as it looked.

Wait, bed?

Ignoring the pain, the prince quickly jumped out of said bed. Where was he? 

The memories of before barged into his head. The tears and exhaustion. The frustration and anger. He fell asleep when sitting against that tree, didn’t he? 

Confirming his suspicion, George stumbled towards the surprisingly clean window. Cold radiated from it. Fall was really starting to kick in. Behind the glass laid the garden, he was in Phil's inn. Clay must’ve carried him there.

George backed away from the window and looked around the room, it was neatly organized and cozy. Almost everything was made from rough wood, or at least rougher than what he was used to from the castle. It was comforting somehow.

Just as George was heading down the stairs he could overhear voices from the first floor. He recognized both, but one of them stood out. 

It was the same voice from the dream, but, clearer. 

Clay? It was Clay in his dream? How did George not lay the connection? 

Now that he thinks about it though, In the dream the speech appeared, slightly off. Distant almost, compared to the heartfelt voice he could hear emerging from downstairs. Maybe it wasn’t Clay in that dream? 

George was starting to doubt himself now, the images were becoming hazy.

He continued his trip down the stairs, the others hadn’t seemed to notice him yet.

“So anyways Phil, I can borrow that money, right?” Clay was carrying two wooden crates in his arms, Phil next to him bearing the same. He seemed to be struggling a bit more with them than the taller dirty blonde individual.

“Again, what do you even need that much money for?” Phil replied, placing the crates on the counter with a troubled grunt.

Clay hummed, setting down the heavy boxes beside the other two. “Does it matter what for?”

“Yes obviously it matters Clay, you’re asking for a lot of darn money from me.” Phil snapped back, sitting down with a huff.

“Oh, c’monnn!” Clay pleaded back.

“I could lend you some money?” George quickly interrupts, smiling slightly. The two hastily turned to him, not knowing he was there. 

Clay smiled when seeing him, “Good evening, your highness!” he almost chirped.

Evening? Crap- what time was it? 

“Thanks for the offer but I can’t accept.” The other continues. “How did you sleep?”

Clay seemed very energetic for whatever reason. Phil just looked exhausted.

“I slept fine I suppose.” George lied. No reason to tell them about the dream.

Phil’s expression shifted a little, did he notice the lie? 

“Well your highness, you should probably head off, correct? I’m sure your time is needed at the castle.” Phil stood up, his voice seemed distant. Probably because he was tired. “As Clay said, no need for the money, I'll deal with it.”

Clay swiftly turned to the man, “So you’ll give me it?” 

Phil sighed and ignored him, “Goodbye your highness.” He bowed slightly.

George chuckled and waved, “Bye-bye! Thank you for letting me stay here for a bit, I appreciate it.”

“T’was just a few hours, don’t sweat it.” Phil waved back.

Clay smiled at the prince. He really seemed different than usual, “Bye, George!” he exclaimed, making Phil’s expression furrow. 

Officially you weren’t supposed to call the royals by their first name, but George didn’t mind one single bit. Every time Clay used his real name he found himself smiling brightly, not wanting to hear any other name or set of words to address him coming from the other's mouth. 

Hearing it made him feel like a person, not some royal ragdoll.


	17. Stars

The sun had long set now. The sky dark, only brightened with an infinite blanket of tiny white dots. Usually, people loved sunsets the most, but George preferred the night sky. Sunsets for him just looked like gradients of blue and dirty yellow, which wasn’t particularly ugly or anything, just not his favorite.

He was standing on his room’s balcony, overviewing the many mountains in the distance. He should’ve been asleep and he was definitely tired, but he couldn’t manage to close an eye. 

The dream he had that day kept replaying in his head, or at least parts of it. It surprised him that he could even still remember the images since usually he forgets them the moment he woke up. Perhaps this one really did have a reason?

What was it though? Why were there chains? The necklace? And why was, who he assumed to be Clay, apologizing? It made no sense honestly.

The prince had met Clay merely yesterday, or well, two days ago now since it's midnight. So why did he have a dream about  _ him _ of all people?

Well, Clay was kind of an interesting character he had to admit. Sure they’ve only known each other for two days, but that didn’t stop them from hanging out for, hours actually. He got to meet the other’s best friend, they actually made a new friend together too. They chatted for ages in the garden, and Clay didn’t seem to judge him for even a second when they were sitting under that tree as he was embarrassingly bawling his eyes out.

He felt, different, around Clay. He felt enticed to open up, to just chat with the other about anything and everything for hours. That was dangerous of course as a prince, but it felt like Clay didn’t really care about royalty or titles. He treated George like an equal, an actual person. It was quite nice honestly, a breath of fresh air.

He was annoying, cocky, arrogant, but also sweet, and brought a smile to the prince’s face basically every five seconds. George was glad they were friends.

A cold breeze flew past him, awakening him from his thoughts. He should really try sleeping, or he’d be tired again tomorrow. Darryl told him to meet him in the library again since they couldn’t continue whatever he had planned this morning. And even though the other insisted on it being fine, George still felt bad for just shipwrecking his schedule with his dumb little ocean of tears.

Closing the balcony doors behind him, George felt the wave of warmth from inside flushing his ears and face. He quickly changed to his bedwear, placing the clothes of that day neatly on his dresser.

The flower that Callahan gave him was still sitting there in the vase. It looked even more sickly now, petals starting to slowly loosen their grip. Give or take 2 days, and it’d be gone.

The prince luckily had no weird nightmares or dreams that night, he actually slept fairly well. Callahan woke him up like usual, and Alyssa had already prepared George's outfit for that day. 

It was getting cold, so the clothing was starting to become pretty warm. What's new was a blue two-layered cloak, innerly lined with soft fine cotton and imprinted with gold patterns. And of course, soft elbow-length gloves, which were dark grey.

Darryl had suggested for Callahan to bring breakfast to his room in the morning. George really didn't enjoy sitting in the big dining hall by himself, so he accepted. 

Today was going smoothly so far, let's hope it stayed that way.

The halls were incredibly tall, a bit too tall for George's liking. Although he was probably just biased because he was short. Nevertheless, the halls were still beautiful. 

The main path had a red carpet with golden accents spun across it, and every so often a big glass pained window would show up. Those things were truly beautiful when the sun shone through them, the many colors dancing on the walls and floor eager to tell a story.

Since he was going to the library, George was sure to take the other way through the castle. He didn't want to mess up Darryl's plans once again by having another one of his pathetic breakdowns. 

Callahan running along next to him was a bit confused as to why he took the long route, but didn't question it.

After a while of walking in comfortable silence, the entrance to the library could be seen. Big dark oak doors engraved with ancient writing sealing the pretty interior off. 

George knew a fair bit about the ancient language. He wanted to read the old books so obviously, he tried to learn it. It was difficult but manageable, he'd say he was pretty good at it.

Slowly pushing open the heavy doors, Callahan ran inside. Darryl waved with a smile at him and George after noticing them. He of course was sitting at the round table with some open books like last time.

"Greetings, your highness! I hope you're feeling well today, I have some stuff planned for you. Take a seat would you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What does the flower symbolize?


	18. No harm

Callahan pulled out one of the big heavy chairs and signaled for George to sit. He thanked the other and did as requested. Darryl smiled at them like usual, but his customary cheery smile was replaced by something more troubled.

He sighed and readjusted his glasses, seemingly overthinking his next words.

“So, your highness. What I’m planning to discuss with you today will most likely be something you might not like. But this is of essential matter, and we frankly don’t have a choice.” He flipped through the pages in one of the books laid out in front of him until he found the page he was looking for.

George furrowed his brows, concerned over the subject of this conversation. This was probably going to be about his parents, wasn’t it?  
“As is obvious, you will become king. And no matter if that’s today, tomorrow, or not until the next ten years, I’m going to have to inform you about the duties of a king.” His expression was stern, looking George straight in the eye. 

“When you’ll be king you’ll bear great responsibility for thousands of people and hundreds of kilometers of land. You will be incredibly busy every day and there will not be time for shenanigans like running off into the towns as you so please to do. You will be required to have meetings with other kingdoms, noblemen, and the council. Much paperwork and signage will also be needed, and don’t forget training for going into battle. As king, you are expected to lead your army into the battlefield. Of course, we should hope that under your rule no wars will occur, but you should nevertheless still be prepared.” 

George blinked, trying to process everything said. He was about to speak when Darryl cut him off,

“Now, of course, prince George, you will not do this alone. Us advisors are always here to guide you and inform you along the way. It might all sound overwhelming right now, and in the beginning, it definitely will be, but remember that we’re here for you alright? We will always be by your side.” A smile made its way back to Darryl’s face. “And, you will also have a wife of course. Many of our neighboring kingdoms will be ecstatic to wed out one of their princesses to a fine young man like you.”

Right, a wife. It was basically required to have a queen since as king you have to have at least one son, an heir to the throne. The problem was, George wasn’t particularly interested. It’s not that he didn’t want a partner, it’s just that he’s always had trouble with loving women in that way. His previous girlfriends never worked out as he was too ‘distant’. He convinced himself it wasn’t working out because he was the prince or something like that, but lately, he’s been doubting that mentality.

He just hopes it isn’t true. He has to have a wife, no matter if he loves her or not. But he didn’t want to waste someone else’s chance like that. She’d be stuck with someone who couldn’t love her back. It would be upsetting for both parties involved. 

“Your highness? Are you alright?”

George looked up from his thoughts, “Oh, yeah just, taking it all in I guess.” He mumbled.

Darryl hummed, “I know it’s a lot, especially since you’re so young, but I feel like you have the people’s best interest in mind,” Darryl took George’s hands in his, “you’ll be a great king, I’m sure of it.”

The prince smiled in response, he always knew what to say. “Thank you, Darryl.”

The rest of their conversation went smoothly. It was mostly just about how to rule a kingdom and all the little intricate details of it. The scheduling, formalities, and whatnot. Darryl avoided talking about the parent situation and George appreciated it. They joked about here and there, Callahan joining in sometimes, it was nice.

After a few hours though, Darryl had to depart, leaving George behind with his thoughts, and Callahan. 

George sighed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the table. He wasn’t ready. They all knew his parents weren’t going to make it, and they still hadn’t even figured out what the cause of their ailment was. 

It must’ve been poisoning right? But what kind? It was so pungent, strong, dangerous. Whoever has ownership over that kind of poison and used it to kill the king and queen could have way more up their sleeve. 

His eyes widened, his head shot up. The only people who could’ve done this were the Anarchists, weren’t they? That means they’re back, after months of their absence. Surely they’re after George now then too right? Or was this to send a message? To stop trying? To never let your guard down? 

Maybe he should stop going out, he should be more cautious. What if he really was next? They had already increased the security, but was it enough? 

How did they even do it? They must’ve tampered with the food, but that wouldn’t make sense since George eats the same as they do. Maybe something they drank? What could’ve been used in the drink though? Nothing they knew of had these severe symptoms. 

He tried every puzzle piece, but nothing fit. Something was missing, a part of the story was missing. It just didn’t make sense and his brain couldn’t think right. He’s had so much information laid on him today, he needed fresh air. 

  
But could he go out? Wouldn’t It be too dangerous?

  
Although, nothing has ever really happened when he went out before.. surely one last time wouldn’t do any harm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20K words! :)  
> mad respect to the writers who manage 10k per chapter and still post like every 4 days, we could never
> 
> Also predict what will happen next chapters we dare you ;)


	19. Bought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter updates are getting rather inconsistent because of school, we apologize! Hopefully you'll still enjoy the story <3

The prince opened the big oak door to his room, shutting it behind him with a loud thud. He was rather nervous, he really wanted to go out, but it might be too dangerous. The town’s center is especially busy today since a few traders are passing through. It’s not often that that happens, so when it does, people are always way too eager.

It could give him more cover though since people would be too busy gushing over the items and setting up their stalls. He also really wanted to talk to Clay again, so it might just be worth the risk. 

“Callahan? Could you fetch that, y’know, less fancy cloak for me?” He requested as he crouched down in front of his dresser. He had to wear something less incriminating again since he didn’t want to be recognized of course. It’s surprising how difficult it is for people to recognize royalty when they’re not in the most expensive clothing available. 

George stood in front of his mirror as he put on the cloak previously handed to him. Even though the disguise worked well enough the previous days, he was overly anxious for today.

An idea sprung to mind. Walking to the other side of his room, he opened a big curtain divider. Behind the curtain was an iron-bound storage chest. It was decorated and engraved with symbols and shapes, seemingly making it more expensive.

Opening the heavy lid, the item he was searching for was sitting at the top. They were white spectacles with dark lenses. 

Picking the somewhat fragile object in his hands, he placed them on his face. He hadn’t worn them in a while, but the white goggles still fit just fine. His sight was slightly darkened by the black lenses, but that didn’t really matter that much when outside. It was actually kind of nice when the sun was shining too brightly.

He turned around to Callahan. The other stuck up his thumbs and smiled. George smiled in return and made his way back over to the wall height mirror. He looked considerably less recognizable, especially with the hood up, so his anxiety was eased. 

“I think I should be fine to head out.” The prince mumbled to himself, adjusting the cloak to sit a tad more comfortable. 

In the reflection of the mirror, he could see Callahan sign something from behind him,  _ “Money?” _

“Oh yeah! Good idea.”

There was still some money in one of the inner pockets since he didn’t spend any yesterday, but if there was a market going on, perhaps he should bring more? He could possibly buy that necklace if he brought enough. 

He remembered that in one of the drawers in his nightstand there was a small box of gold coins. After opening said drawer, he found something else next to the box too, a beautifully engraved steel and golden dagger. He got it as a gift once from his father. He should probably bring it along with him, just to be sure. 

Stuffing some gold in the pouch, and strapping the dagger to the inside of his boot, he was ready. Callahan decided to not come along, as he had some things to do apparently. It was fine with George since it would probably seem less suspicious anyway.

He made his way down the corner tower he resided in and sneaked out one of the windows he purposely left open. 

After a short while, he arrived at the forge. Looking through the window he noticed the necklace wasn’t there on display. Perhaps they took it off to clean? Not thinking much of it, he knocked on the door. After hearing a few heavy footsteps and loud clanking of metal, the door opened. Seeing it was Nick, the prince took off his spectacles and hood. The other’s face lit up with a nervous smile,

“Hello, your highness!” He greeted, stepping aside so George could head in. 

“I already told you you didn’t have to refer to me by that name, Nick,” George replied, looking around the quaint building. The walls were made of masonries and wooden planks. In the back of the room there was a giant brick oven, an iron anvil, many tables and storage opportunities, and of course, many beautiful swords and axes littered all over the walls like trophies. 

Nick closed the door behind him, “Sorry, I’m just not used to it I guess, not often a royal doesn’t care about that y’know?” He joked, nervously chuckling. 

George hummed, admiring the tools and weapons on the wall. “Is Sam not here today?” He then asked, resisting the urge to not touch any of it.

“Nope,” Nick walked over to George and stood beside him, following his eyes upwards to the wall.

“He went out to look for something I think? I’m not sure. He didn’t go into much detail. Why? Did you need him?”

“No, not really, just curious.” The prince turned to the other, “I was meaning to ask about the redstone necklace you had on display yesterday. Do you still have it?” He asked, looking up at the bandana-wearing man.

“O-oh, uh, no, we just sold it like, half an hour ago. Sorry, your highness.” Nick answered, scratching the back of his neck.

“Really? Who bought it?”

“Er..” The other looked nervous, “I-i wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, sorry again.”

Huh? Not tell anyone? Strange.

“Oh, that’s a shame.”

He could just order Nick to tell him, but eh he didn’t want to be a dick. He’ll just spend the extra money he brought on the traders. They always have rather expensive stuff anyway.

"Well, no matter, ill be off. Thank you anyways, Nick.”

“No problem! I’ll see you later!” He smiled, trailing behind George to the exit. 


	20. Dangerous

The market was, loud. As expected obviously. Many somewhat well-dressed people going about, bumping into each other, yelling at thieves, or trying to sell their wares. Slowly coming closer to the commotions core, he could smell all different types of things. Leather and metal, well-spiced foods, and strong herbs. It was the busiest George had seen the place in a long while.

It worried him obviously, someone was bound to recognize him. Although people seemed to be extremely busy, and everyone was a fair bit taller than George, they were bumping into him left and right. People didn’t pay attention to him, it almost felt like he didn’t exist. It felt, different. It was nice actually until a hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him off to the side.

His eyes widened as he quickly darted an elbow into the other’s stomach, causing a loud grunt. Turning around his hand already reaching for his boot, he saw the other’s face.

“Clay?” He questioned worriedly, immediately trying to help his hunched over friend.

The other laughed, “You’re stronger than you look, George! Your elbows are like daggers!” he said with a taunting smile, looking up at George.

“My god are you okay? I’m so sorry I thought you were like, a kidnapper or something!”

Clay’s laughing continued, “I’m fine, it’s fine,” He waved his hand, standing upright and rubbing his stomach.

A sigh of relief left George, but his expression quickly turned to anger, an accusing finger pressed against Clay’s chest. “Don’t do that again, idiot! I could’ve seriously hurt you!”

Clay scoffed, “Oh really? You could’ve seriously hurt me?”

George’s expression turned to confusion, “What’s that supposed to mean?” He returned snidely.

Clay’s grin widened, “Nothing, nothing, just that someone like you wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”

“What?! Are you forgetting who you’re talking t--“

“What are you even wearing, Georgie? You think those dumb little glasses would help people not recognize you?” The annoying man interrupted.

“’Georgie’? Did you really just ca--“

“Anyways, did you bring money? I kind of spent all of mine earlier but I’d still love to get some new stuff.” Clay took George’s arm and lunged into the busy crowd. He was extremely confused at how fast things were going, what has gotten into him today?

They spent the next hour filtering through the many stalls and talking to the many merchants trying to sell their junk. There was a fortune teller too of course, which Clay oh so eagerly wanted to talk to and spend George’s money on. There was also someone who sold pretty crystals and rocks, which intrigued him instead. Beautifully cast swords and battle-axes, jewelry and clothing were obviously sold as well.

He wasn’t sure how everyone set all this up in one morning, but he wasn’t complaining. He hadn’t had this much fun with a friend in a while. Clay’s sarcastic jokes and laughter were enough to make the prince forget he was actually in fact a prince. He caught himself admiring the other’s humor and personality way too often. Something about Clay made him lose all worry he had earlier that day.

"Man, all these foreign florae are beautiful. It's upsetting I'm not allowed outside the castle walls to explore. My parents always tell me it's 'too dangerous' like I haven't been training for combat every damn week."

"Wait," Clay begins, "you've never been outside the walls? Like ever?"

"No! Not even to go hunt in the forest with the others or something! It's so frustrating!"

"Huh." The other taps his fingers against his leg, "Why haven't you just snuck out? I mean, you sneak out every time to go into the town anyway."

George scoffed, "You think I haven't tried? I would if I could. The outer castle walls are way heavier guarded."

"I mean, I could just take you?" He offered.

The prince's eyes widened, he stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"Yeah, I can just take you to the forest for a day or something if you'd want to." The other shrugged like it was nothing.

"Take me t-- Clay absolutely not!" George almost yelled.

Noticing his tone, he started whispering, "We'd get in so much trouble if someone found out, especially you! Helping the prince escape?! Are you mental?!" He yell-whispered to Clay, who raised his brow as a reaction.

"Oh come on, George, since when did you care about the rules? And besides, who's gonna yell at you? Your parents?" He scoffed, but his smile quickly faltered.

George's shocked and frustrated expression twisted into something slightly sad. Why would he just say that so nonchalantly?

"Uh- i- sorry I didn't mean it like that--" the other stuttered, his hands slightly reaching out to George.

He took a small step back, "It-it's fine. Just, I can't just go out, Clay. I'd put not only the entire kingdom but also you at risk. Imagine what would happen if I got hurt, you'd- they'd-" a lump caught in his throat as he fidgeted with his hands.

Clay put a hand on his shoulder, "George, hey, you wouldn't get hurt. I mean, I'll be right there to defend you from any danger, man! And besides, as you said, you've been training every week, right?"

"Well yeah.. but-"

"Then how about we spar? You beat me, and I'll take you outside the walls!"

George looked up in slight disbelief and scoffed. "You think you can fight better than the literal prince? You're funny, Clay."

He laughed, "Don't underestimate me, Georgie~"

The prince gasped and crossed his arms, "There you go again with that stupid-- y'know what? Yeah fine, I'll beat you, and we'll go out!"

George swiped Clay's hand off his shoulder and continued walking, the other quickly catching up.

"Wonderful!" He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure why y'all think dream's gonna do smth bad


	21. Foreshadowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We took a week break to catch up a little and overview the story, we're back though with a new chapter! :)

Clay and George were making their way over to the training grounds for their sparring match. George was confident he'd win, what would someone like Clay know of fighting compared to the literal prince anyway?

"Doesn't it get tiring? Walking this 40-minute path every day only to get to the castle?"

George was caught off guard by the sudden question and shrugged. "It can be sometimes, but I'd rather walk 40 minutes outside in the fresh air than inside."

"Fair point." Clay agreed.

"You had to walk the same road though right? Since you worked as a servant."

"Well I mean, yeah, but only a few times. Since I basically already didn't have to show up anymore after just one day."

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I just prefer eating anywhere else but in that lonely castle hall I suppose."

"Right, sorry," Clay mumbled, his hands in his pockets.

The prince raised a brow and looked at Clay, "You're sorry? For what?"

"Er, well," He cleared his throat, "Y'know just, sorry that all that is happening." He quickly answered.

George hummed and turned his head back to the ground, "Thanks I suppose."

There hung an awkward silence in the air. Clay always seemed rather iffy when it came to George's parents.

After a few minutes, he interrupted the silence, "I'm not sure if you mind me asking but, do you guys have any suspicion as to what or, who caused this yet?"

George continued to stay silent. 

Should he tell him? Maybe, maybe not. He wanted to but, would it be smart? George had already spilled too much to him. He considered Clay as a friend sure but, they still only knew each other for a few days.

George wasn't usually this open with people, especially ones he practically just met, why was he so different around Clay?

"No, I'm afraid not." He decided to lie.

The other seemed content with the answer, "Hm, alright."

After a while, they arrived at the training grounds. It was built in a corner of the sturdy castle walls on a big grass field. Inside the further built perimeter of fences were stands with shields, un-sharpened swords, gloves, bows and arrows. On the other side of the field, some target and normal dummies could be seen, looking rather beaten up. Someone with orange hair was crouched down in front of them, seemingly repairing them. 

Other than that singular person, the field was empty.

"Right, here we are then. Grab a sword and some gloves and I'll show you how you should never spar with the prince Mr. I'm Good At Everything." George teased, already running over to the stands.

Clay laughed and quickly ran after him. They both put on the gloves as to not accidentally damage their hands in battle, and each took a sword. 

"Out of three?" George questioned, getting a nod in response.

The first battle went by fast. The prince lunged forward at the upper part of Clay's body. He easily blocked it, the clanking of metal filling the air. The other being distracted as part of George's plan, he pushed him backward, and before being able to regain balance George put a sturdy foot down behind him, effectively tripping him.

Holding the tip of his blade to the other's throat, George grinned, "See?"

Clay scoffed, "Beginners luck, Georgie."

"Speaking about _luck_ , you're really pushing _yours_ talking to me like that, Clay-ie." The prince returned, kicking the other's foot out of annoyance. 

The next round went by just as fast, but Clay now took the win. 

A loud clang brought their swords upwards to the air. Before George could advance Clay swung an arm around his arms and meanwhile stepping behind him, effectively twisting George's entire body to point towards the ground. George, now unable to move any part of his body or keep a firm grip on his weapon, got his sword ripped from his hands, sending it flying into the air. 

_'Holy shit.'_ He rightfully thought.

He'd never seen _that_ move before, where the hell did Clay learn that? Did Phil teach him that? 

"Well?" Clay laughed, seeing how stunned the prince was.

"I don't- how did you--"

"Told you not to underestimate me, your highness." He teased, letting go of his firm grip. 

The proud and cheerful smile on his face was enough for George to forget it, "Fine, whatever. Third and final round, go get my sword for me would you?" He demanded, rubbing his wrists.

Clay laughed again, "Sure thing, my lord." He winked. 

The last battle was slower. The constant clashing of their swords was all that could be heard, along with some snide remarks from Clay to piss George off.

"Fix your posture." A blade was headed straight for the prince's face. He quickly blocked it, setting a sturdy foot behind him. 

"Shut up, idiot."

They constantly tried to outsmart each other, trying to trip the other or somehow trying to get them to drop their weapon. But they were both too skilled, and they were constantly interrupting each other's advances.

Eventually, Clay got annoyed. As the prince did another one of his way too proficient lunges, he quite literally grabbed the sword and pointed it away from him, his glove slightly tearing. You are _not_ supposed to just grab the _blade_ of a sword.

George, rightfully startled, was lifted up by the collar and slammed against the rough wall behind him. He dropped his weapon and instinctively raised his hands to the one holding him up. How was Clay this strong?

"C-clay?" The prince nervously spoke.

The other quickly dropped him, his expression a mix of shock and embarrassment.

He cleared his throat, "Sorry about that, I got carried awa--"

Stepping backward, Clay was once again tripped by George.

He fell with a loud thud as George cheered, "Victory!"

" _Oh my god_ , what is wrong with you! You had me actually worried and you just trip me again?!" Clay yelled annoyed but quickly started laughing along with George.

"Fine, you win! You've proven yourself, your highness."

"Oh man your face when you fell! The expression of utter betrayal!" 

Clay punched George's shoulder, "You can shut up now before _I_ make you trip for once!"


	22. Jealousy

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

George rolls his eyes and grabs Dream's hand, taking off the slightly torn glove and holding it up to his face.

"What you did was pretty dumb y'know, you could've seriously gotten hurt if your glove tore any further."

Dream scoffed, "I've had wayy worse injuries than a little slice in my hand." 

"What?" George lowered the glove, he looked worried.

Dream should really pay more attention to what he tells him, he's been slipping up too much lately.

"What do you mean way--"

Slow clapping interrupts them,

_'Saved by the bell.'_

It appeared to be the same man they saw fixing the dummies earlier. He had the same orange hair with grey streaks and was wearing a grey jacket of sorts with colorful stripes on the collar lapel. A toothy grin was spread across his pointy face.

"Impressive fighting skills, you two! Surprised I don't recognize either of you!"

Out of the corner of Dream's eye, he noticed George attempting to say something, but he was rudely interrupted by the new guy, whose interest sparked suddenly to Dream.

"Especially you, I'd love for you to introduce yourself." He spoke, his eyes narrowing.

Dream doubted for a bit, confused with the other's tone. "Uh, my name is Clay, And this is-"

"Clay? What an unusual yet fitting name. My name is Fundy~!" He interrupted again. How can he say his name is unusual when he goes by 'Fundy'?

"I watched you two's little quarrel. I don't recognize your fighting techniques at all, Clay! Are you one of those traders that are passing through?"

_'Intruding much?'_

"No, I live here. I stay with Philza."

Fundy moved closer, "Oh really? Didn't know Philly was keeping such _cute_ guys in hiding~!" He giggled, his laugh nearly mirroring one of a fox.

"Excuse me?" Dream spoke, offended almost.

"Alright, that's enough."

The prince took a step forward, breaking up the uncomfortable situation. He put a hand on Dream's shoulder, pulling him backward softly.

"Back off Fundy." His voice was stern. Dream hadn't heard that before, he looked pissed.

"Wait, your voice--"

George took off the spectacles and hood, revealing himself to the other. Fundy quickly took a step back, obviously startled.

"Your- your highness! I-i didn't realize it was you! I uh--"

The prince interrupted his stutters, "Should get going? Yeah, I agree."

His tone almost startled Dream himself, every word seething with poison.

Fundy cleared his throat, "Yep! I-i should get going!" He parroted, "Y'know, do, something-- Er-- goodbye!" 

The man gave a messy bow and scattered. Dream would've done the same in that situation. How did George change his mood so quickly?

Dream rubbed his neck, not really knowing what to say, "Thanks for saving me from that." He mumbled, carefully watching the prince's expression.

He nodded and directed his attention away from the hill he saw the other disappear behind. He swiftly picked the swords they dropped off the ground and walked off towards the stands without another word.

Dream quickly ran after him, "So, you know him?" He questioned, trying to lift the mood.

George carefully placed the swords in the weapon racks, "Sadly, I do. He has several jobs around the castle, but we just call him our extra jester."

"Explains the name."

George hummed and took off his gloves, "He pulls pranks on us a lot, usually together with Toby."

"That he hasn't been executed yet then is beyond me." Dream chuckles, making George sigh and shake his head in agreement.

Toby had told Dream about many of his shenanigans. He hung around Phil quite often so they're pretty good friends. He usually didn't mention names though, probably so Thomas wouldn't witch hunt the people.

"Well Clay, it was nice beating you," George's smile widened as he looked up at him with almost glistening eyes, "but I have some business to attend to."

Dream scoffed,

  
_'His gaze is distracting.'_

  
"I let you beat me Georgie, so we can go to the forest together tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow already?" He quickly asked.

"Well I mean, is that too soon for you?"

"No no, not at all! I suppose I'm still just processing it. You better not get us into any trouble, alright? I have no interest in seeing you in chains for endangering the prince."

Dream laughed, "Don't worry man it's literally just some trees."

George perked up, "There's so much danger in those 'just some trees', Clay!"

Dream's eyes narrowed slightly, _'If only you knew.'_

He put an elbow on the other's shoulder as they made their way over to the main road, "We'll be fine, George. don't worry so much."


	23. Trust

It was the next day, an hour before sunset. Dream had a perfect spot in mind to give George his gift. He's not sure why he went through all the trouble or why he even bought it in the first place. The prince could've easily purchased it himself.

He just wanted to gift something to his friend. That's normal, right?

It sounded uncanny though, his "friend". He didn't like calling him a friend. He shouldn't be friends with royals.

Light approached the opened window he stood next to. Relief made its way over him. He wasn't sure why, though.

"Sorry I'm a bit late. These people can not get off of my tail, ever." The prince protested, settling a foot on the windowsill. The wooden torch he was holding flickered slightly at his struggles.

Dream absent-mindedly held out his hand, "It's fine, I get it," the prince took it mindfully, using it to get out of the window the rest of the way.

As his feet landed on the ground he peered up at Dream with a smile, the wind tousling his hair, making it sway ever so slightly. "So where are we going?" He asked.

Dream smiled back, almost out of instinct. "I wanted to show you a specific part of the forest, so we're going out towards the west. But to sneak out, we'll have to go east first along the river. Hope you don't mind getting your feet wet.”

"Not at all!" George laughed, "Sounds like you're taking me on a very well-planned out date, Clay."

Heat arose up Dream's face, his smile fell a little, "What-?"

A date? Was this a date to George? Oh god does George think Dream likes him? They’re barely even friends!

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Gosh, look at your face! You look like a tomato!" George laughed again, his smile almost shining brighter than the sun itself.

"What is _wrong_ with you." Dream mumbled, looking away to hide his face.

Following Dream's instructions and lots of shushed giggling, they made it out. Sure it was an annoying way out, having to tread through muddy water and all. But there weren't many knights patrolling the river entrance, and Dream memorized their switching schedule from heart.

"It really wasn't guarded well at all there; we got out without anyone noticing! I'll be sure to patch that problem up as soon as possible." George stated as Dream helped him out of the water.

"What? But then you wouldn't be able to sneak out!" He laughed.

_'And we wouldn't be able to sneak in._ '

"Oh c'mon," George dropped his cloak, he was holding it to prevent it from getting wet, "I'll be king then Clay, I’ll decide if and when I go out or not, I won't need a sneaky escape." He scoffed, taking off his hood. No need for it here.

"I suppose you're right." Dream murmured, looking for the path he frequently used.

"So, how did you even know about that?" George asked, following behind.

"About what?"

' _Ah, there it is._ ' He signaled for the prince to go first, making him jump like a little kid. Hastily taking the torch he brought back from Dream, he went into the shadows of the dense greenery.

Dream couldn't help but smile.

"About the river exit. You seemed to know exactly where to go!" George clarified, threading his way carefully along the rough path, admiring every single flower and plant he laid his eyes on.

' _Oh shit, what do I say?_ '

"I uh- I found it yesterday evening, after the sparring. Y'know because, I mean, I had to find a good exit for us. So I just kind of scoured around for hours." He lied. He keeps forgetting he can't tell George anything, no matter how tempting it might be.

"Hours? Sheesh, you didn't have to go through all the trouble! But thank you still, I appreciate it." George returned, his voice betraying a smile.

‘ _This man is so oblivious it’s almost impressive._ ’

"No problem at all, your highness." Dream spoke a little too fondly. The words didn't even trouble him anymore. He knew this was getting out of hand. He knew it would all come crashing down sooner or later. Why was he doing this to himself? And especially why was he doing this to George?

George-- no-- the prince, would find out.

_“You are Dream_ . _You directly did this to his parents, and if he finds out who you are, and what you’ve done?”_

The memory replays in his head,

_“Believe me when I say he will throw you in the cellars,”_

Phil’s words haunting him,

_"he’ll have you burned at stake,”_

No,

_“he’ll have you lynched,”_

He wouldn’t, right?

_“he’ll torture you until you’d want to die.”_

Phil was-

“Clay? Are you alright?” The hushed words awoke him.

The prince stood there, staring at him. His face carried a concerned expression. He carefully came closer, his hand reaching out to Dream.

Reaching out, he was reaching out to him. 

He cared-- he cared about him.

Phil— Phil, was wrong.

Other royals may have been cruel-- but this one, this one-- George-- was different.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright, George.”

The other smiled, making his way over to Dreams side and handing him the torch.

“Great, lead the way then, good sir.”

The way-- a dark path. Only lit by one torch. 

It was dangerous, but George trusted him to lead the way.

Trust.


	24. Arrow

The many hues of green, red, and orange surround them, comforting yet unknown. The usual sunbeam would shine its way through the tree trunks to illuminate the path ever so slightly. Luckily they brought a torch with them, they would easily get lost otherwise in the dense shrubbery.

interrupting any chance of silence, the distant sound of water swirling and fighting its way along the river ground, the many critters rummaging for a meal, and Dream and George's footsteps crunching along the leafy path were heard.

Suddenly Dream stopped, "George, wait here for a minute would you?"

"What?" The other turned around, "Why?"

"Just wait," Dream ran off with a slight smile, "it'll be worth it, I promise!"

A soft "Okay?" Could be heard behind him.

Less than a minute later, he returns holding something behind his back. George cocked his head a little, trying to see what he was hiding.

"Close your eyes, and don't open them until I tell you to!" Dream smiled.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes!" He now laughed, making his way over to George.

"Fine--" the other finally closed his eyes, just as Dream took his hand, and placed a light, prickly object in it.

"You can open them now." He murmured.

As George opened his eyes, he studied the gift and raised an eyebrow. "A red rose?"

Dream laughed and took back the torch, "I just thought that since you already see this as a date, I'd just solidify it further!"

George's face slightly flushed as he pushed Dream with his now free hand, "Oh my god, you are so stupid. That was a joke, idiot!"

"Oh come on, I thought you liked flowers?" He pouted.

George rolled his eyes and scoffed, "you're stupid."

"Whatever you say, Georgie. Now hurry up, we don't have all day."

The other giggled as Dream took his hand, "Sheesh Clay, tight schedule?"

"Well, you have been walking way slower than I thought you would be."

"Oh shut it, I was just appreciating the scenery!"

"You can do enough of that when we go back, now c'mon!" Dream picked up his pace, pulling George along with him, both giggling.

After around ten more minutes of walking, they arrived at the end of the path. It was way brighter there as the trees thinned down.

Dream turned around, "Alright, close your eyes again."

"Again? Did you find more roses or something?"

"Nope, something better!" He smiled.

George raised a somewhat nervous brow, "Should I be scared?"

“Just close your eyes, George!"

"Fine, fine! Didn't answer my question, though." He mumbled, following the other's orders.

Dream put his hands on the other's shoulders, leading him forward, "Keep walking, almost-- alright, stop here." Dream let go of his shoulders and made his way over next to him. "You can open your eyes now."

George did as asked. He saw.. "Woah! Are you trying to get me killed?!" He quickly stumbled backward as Dream laughed softly,

"No, of course not. Look in front of you instead of down."

"But--" George lifted his head towards the horizon.

The small river that threaded its way through the castle and forest formed itself into a waterfall, creating a giant lake surrounded by more trees and fields at the bottom. The sun was setting right behind some mountains in the distance, making the sky swirl with pinks, purples, and oranges.

"Oh wow." George gasped.

Dream looked to the left of him instead of the sunset. He'd seen it many times before, but not the beauty that was standing right next to him.

"Yeah, right?" He mumbled, further admiring how the sunlight bounced off of George's hair and how the delicate beams would create golden shimmers in the other's hazel eyes.

His stomach started to make flips at the sight of him. The word friend still didn't sound right, but now for a different reason.

"That's- that's beautiful! This is--" George stuttered, quickly getting interrupted by Dream,

"And to make it even better, I got you this--" He pulled out a golden necklace from his pocket, the red gems dangling from it, basking in the bright sunlight.

"Is- is that the redstone necklace?" George held out his hand, touching one of the gems to see it glow.

"Clay, you idiot, this was way too expensive! I was going to buy it myself!" He laughed, as Dream handed him the necklace.

"Oh come on, didn't you like it?" Dream smiled.

"No I- I love it! I love all of this!" The other laughed again, lifting his hand up to rub one of his eyes.

"Thank you so much, Clay. All this is probably the nicest thing someone has ever done for me."

"What? Oh come on, George. You're a royal, you can get anything you'd like!"

"That's not true, I can never get anything I ask for, no matter how small of a request it is. I- I've always wanted to see the beauty of the forests, the landscaping, the rivers, the flowers, the creatures, everything! I've been locked inside that wretched castle all my life, Clay. You don't understand how much this means to me. I really don't deserve you." His face held a smile, small tears making their way down his cheeks.

Dream's face warmed a little, he was a pretty crier. "Well I- I'm glad I could do this for you then, I--"

George's smile lowered, his shoulders tensed, "Did you hear that?"

Dream looks into the depths of the forest, confused, "Hear wh--"

The high-pitched sound of an arrow flying through the air could be heard.

Before either could respond, the arrow hits flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the amount of foreshadowing we stick in these chapters is mind blowing.
> 
> anyways! happy birthday to Sapnap and mr. Minecraft! 1st of march what a wonderful date.


	25. Warning

The sharp arrowhead hits George straight in his arm.

He loses balance,

His feet stumble towards the cliffs steep edge,

...

But before he could fall,

Dream catches him.

"Holy--! George! Are you okay?!" He yelled, hastily pulling him away from the edge, and carefully but quickly setting him down on the ground.

George groans, grabbing his arm out of pain. "Dammit! y-yeah I’m fine just--"

Another sound of something flying through the air catches Dream's attention. As he quickly stepped in front of George, the arrow hit the ground before them.

It missed?

No, there was something attached to it, a letter?

Dream made his way towards the arrow and crouched down to take a closer look. The arrow, it was one of theirs, did Phil--?

He hastily opened the folded piece of paper, his eyes widen,

" _Traitor."_ It reads.

Dream looked back to the prince, who was still groaning out of pain. He quickly stuffed the arrow in one of his inner pockets and walked back to his side.

"We have to leave your highness, now."

The prince nodded and Dream helped him up.

The trip back was quiet. The previous sounds of the woods seemed to have silenced themselves. Dream was cautious, he wasn't letting the attacker pull anything again.

The arrow with the note, he could feel it in his pocket, almost making fun of him. How could he have let this happen? The prince was hurt because of him, because of his recklessness. He was overstepping boundaries. taking him outside the castle walls? Really, Dream? What happened to your hatred for royalty?

Why did you even do it? Did you feel bad for him? Did you pity him? You know it wasn't " _just because he's your friend_ ", there's something else, but what? And why is it making you act reckless? Idiotic? Like you cannot think? You could've foreseen this, you could’ve predicted this, if only you weren't such a-

"Don't blame yourself." The prince mumbled.

Dream looked to his side, shocked, "What?"

The other sighed, "I can read your expression, Clay. Don't blame yourself. It's just one arrow, it'll heal, alright?"

Dream turns his head back to the path. "I know."

The prince hummed, "Thank you, by the way. For catching me back there."

"Oh, yeah. No problem I suppose." He murmured.

George seemingly wanted to say more, but he stopped himself.

As they arrived back at the castle, they saw a man dressed in black and red practically yelling at the guards.

"--the searching parties need to--" He noticed them, "Goodness Prince George! You're alive!" He quickly ran over, the guards he was talking to trailing behind him.

"Is that-- an arrow? We need to get you to doctor Ponk, immediately!"

Before either could protest the guards took the prince, making sure to be careful with his arm.

As they walked towards the gates, the man rambled on about how worried he was, and was scolding George for leaving. But George didn't pay attention. He looked back at Dream, giving a small smile signaling he'd be okay before the gates closed behind them.

Dream wanted to follow, but a guard stepped in front of him. He scowled and turned to leave towards the general direction of the tavern, rage bubbling up inside of him.

“Phil, you dirty bastard!”

Dream busted down the door, Phil didn’t even look phased, as he was sipping his tea.

“Well hello to you too, mate.” He laughed.

“Did you do it, huh?! Did you shoot him?!” Dream yelled, practically stomping towards Phil.

“What? What are you talking about?” The man looked up at him with a raised brow. He hadn’t seen Dream this pissed off in a while.

“Don’t act fucking _stupid_ with me, Phil. Did you shoot the prince?”

Phil furrowed his brows, “Wait, what? No, i—“

“Look!” Dream took out the arrow from his pocket, and showed it to Phil, “This is one of _our_ arrows!”

“Calm the fuck down dude, I didn’t do shit!” Phil yelled back.

“You _must_ have done it because _you_ are the only one that knows about me not wanting to fucking _hurt_ him!”

Phil stayed quiet, avoiding Dream’s glare of anger.

Then he realized,

“Unless you—You told Techno! You fucking told Techno didn’t you?!” Dream yells again, clenching the arrow in his fist.

Phil finally stood up, “Yes! I told Techno! Clay you are _sabotaging_ our operation!”

Dream started to see red, “GodDAMMIT PHIL WE DON’T HAVE TO KILL HIM!” He stepped back, grabbing his hair trying to calm himself, “He’s different! I told you he’s different! Why don’t you ever listen to m—"

“Clay!” A familiar voice called out behind him.

Dream quickly turned around, the anger disappearing from his veins as he saw the person in tears.

“George?” He dropped the arrow in Phil’s hands and quickly ran towards him.

“Clay i—I hope I’m not interrupting anything I just—“ Tears streamed down his face.

“No! No of course not! What happened? Why is the arrow still in your arm?” Dream took George’s hand with worry.

“I just—I hate it, Clay! I hate being a prince! Royal! Anything! All of it! I don’t want to be restricted like this, I don’t want to be targeted like this, I want to live a normal life! Like—like you guys! Like—“ A sob left his mouth again, as he fell into Dreams arms.

Dream gladly embraced him, the prince’s head in his shoulder. “George, George please calm down. You’re still injured, we need to get that thing out and—“

“Here let me.” Phil stepped beside them and put a hand on the prince’s shoulder, his other hand holding a medkit. Dream furrowed his brows in confusion, what was he doing? Phil nodded back at him with a small smile, and he hesitantly let go of George.

Did Phil, change his mind?


	26. Anger

"Are you even paying attention to me?"

Darryl stood still in front of George, his face red and his teeth almost breaking from clenching them so much. They just got through the gate, and he was berating George for getting himself hurt. He wasn't in the mood to argue, though,

"Of course I am." He lied, his voice strained. The blood from the wound had soaked his sleeve red. It stopped bleeding a while ago, but it still hurt.

"No, you were not." Darryl pressed his fingers against his temples and forced his eyes shut out of frustration. He took a deep breath, his voice lowering to a whisper, "I requested one thing from you, George. One. thing. I know you have been sneaking out to the town substantially every day, alright? I've held that a secret from the king and queen for years! And all I required in return, was for you to not depart outside of the castle walls, and what did you do?"

"Look, Darryl I--"

"I do not want to hear it! You make one new friend and suddenly do whatever you please? That is dangerous, George! You could've gotten yourself killed!" His voice raised slightly, but it was still quiet enough not to alarm others.

"But I--" George tried to intervene, but to no avail.

"What was his name again? Clay? I already suspected him, the way he behaved around you and me like he didn't even acknowledge we were royal! That he was speaking to the literal prince!"

"What--?" George again tried to speak, to say anything, but Darryl kept going. It made his throat close, what was he getting at?

Darryl's voice raised slightly from a whisper again, "He directed you straight into a trap, George! He--"

"What? No!" He quickly defended, "He would never do that! You don't know him as I do he--"

"How long have you even known him? How could you trust his judgement over ours? What you did today was selfish! If you had died? Gosh, you couldn't even comprehend the utter anarchy we would've been in!"

"But, I-- I don't care!" He was yelling now, his heartbeat quickening in his chest. Darryl took a step back, his expression rid of all anger, now only containing worry and shock.

"Have you ever considered how I've-- How _I've_ felt being locked up in this place for all of my life?" His voice broke and his face started to redden, tears blurring his vision.

"You've never allowed me anything! I've been you guys' puppet my entire life!" The salty droplets started breaking free from the tension, slowly trickling down his face.

"Have you ever considered that I don't want to be a prince? That I never chose this life?!" A loud sob left his lips, he didn't care for anyone else that could've heard him. He knew what he was doing was risky but he couldn't think straight. Anger and pain were clouding his thoughts, his vision, and his words.

Darryl looked taken aback, his expression softened. He reached out his hand slightly, "George I.. I didn't--"

"Didn't what?! Didn't think I knew that I only matter because I'm the prince, and not because you actually care?! I know you don't care, Darryl!" He yelled. His arm ached, the tears hot and heavy streaming down his face.

He needed to get out of there. The brick walls felt once again like they were closing in on him, that the ground was ready to swallow him whole. He couldn't see the expression of empathy and worry in the other's eyes, only twisted pity and disgust.

Darryl took a step forward again, his voice was soft and sweet. "George, of course I care about you, I--" He reached out his hand further but George slapped it away,

"If- if you did then, you--" he felt lightheaded, "you would've--" his lungs weren't working anymore. The air felt thick and unbreathable. The ground was swaying and he could've sworn eyes were looking at him from everywhere. He needed out, now.

So he turned and ran.

"Your highness!" He heard a desperate yell behind him, but he couldn't get himself to care.

He pushed past the few guards standing near the exit and ran out into the fresh air. He felt his hand reaching for the necklace he was gifted that day, he knew where he was going.

He looked back, but the guards didn't seem to follow him. Darryl was speaking with them, probably telling them George wasn't worth the trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The petals have fallen,  
> just one remains,  
> from denial to anger,  
> don't let it all go up in flames.
> 
> <3


End file.
